


Family Name

by Ceile



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Sorry?, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding-ish?, most likely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:50:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15722325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceile/pseuds/Ceile
Summary: Another Story in the same fan-verse as A Night to Remember and There, In Summer.Victor has been planning their Thing for months now, and Yuuri's about had enough of all the BS.  It's too much.  But, when is Victor Nikiforov ever *not* too much?  Yuuri has just resigned to giving Victor whatever he wants for their Thing.Until he figures out what it is that Victor actually needs...





	1. Topic of Discussion:  The Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping by this story! It is another story in the same 'verse as "A Night To Remember" and "There, In Summer", but can probably stand alone. I think. I was told to fluff warn for it, so it's in the tags.
> 
> I do hope you enjoy it!
> 
> It is complete, and I will mark as such when all three Parts are posted.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!

“Victor~~!  Dinner’s ready,”  Katsuki Yuuri called from their kitchen in St. Petersburg.  

 

No response.  

 

A sigh.  He hadn’t been heard.  Again. 

 

Because of That Topic of Discussion.

 

He put their plates down and reached for the bottle of Shiraz one Victor Nikiforov had purchased on his way home from the rink, Victor having made the comment, “I need this tonight.  As a vodka chaser,” because Yuri Plisetsky had apparently broken a new record of f-bombs when he was having an uncharacteristic off-day at practice due to a cold he wouldn't admit he had.  

 

“I’m poooouuuurrrrinng, Victor~~!”

 

“I’ll be there in a minute, lapochka~~!”  came the voice from behind their closed bedroom door where, undoubtedly, Christophe Giacometti was the recipient, and  _ sufferer _ ,  of Victor’s Skype call.  

 

Yuuri poured them each a glass of wine and sat down; they were just having salads tonight at least so nothing would get cold that wasn’t supposed to be.  Neither of them liked to eat too heavily before a long flight, and their flight to Hasetsu, although somewhat of a routine over the last couple of years, was definitely long.

 

He looked toward Makkachin as the old dog lay curled up in his dog bed, and then he looked upon the airline crate pulled out of storage a few days prior that was placed in the living room to give the old dog The Signal that they would be traveling again.  They were taking him, even though the vet recommended against it, and even though two summers ago Victor had decided that would have been his last trip, and even though they didn’t take him the last time they went-

 

That Topic of Discussion had struck again,  with Victor almost losing it after they got the initial “no” from the veterinarian and they were home cuddling with the patient on the couch.  

 

“He has to be there, Yuuri,”  Victor had said, his voice almost cracking, and those God-awful tears threatening to spill over into the dog’s soft fur. 

 

“Vitya, you heard the doctor,”  Yuuri tried to gently reason, tried to console, tried to make the case for why it would be better for Makkachin to stay home.   But he also saw the sadness in Victor’s eyes, the look he always hoped he wouldn’t see again whenever he saw it, and Yuuri knew that a phone call would be made, an in-person plea, if necessary, and those papers would be signed because Victor wanted it to be so.  After all, when Yuuri heard, “One more time, okay? I have to have him there. I have to,” how on God’s Green Earth could he say no?

 

So the next morning, while Victor was at the rink for his early practice with Yuri “I’m  _ not _ sick, Victor!” Plisetsky, who, at least called them by names other than Fucktard and Pig most of the time now since the Fucktard was now his  _ coach _ , Yuuri dragged himself out of bed at the crack of early and made the call, slapped together his very,  _ very _ best Russian-ish, and made the plea in advance, threatened to come in person to the veterinary office unless he obtained the doctor’s agreement, so that when Victor called during Yuri’s break he would get his “yes”.

 

Victor called him later that morning gushing with ecstatic energy to tell him the good news,  probably almost crying again, because of the vet’s “decision” to change his mind. And Yuuri was happy to have made for that to happen, and that small detail Victor didn’t need to know.

 

And now they would be leaving the next day, and Makkachin, for his part, seemed to be excited anyway, and Yuuri prayed to all the Gods he knew that he would make it, and that his own decision to interfere would not turn out to be a mistake.

 

“You can make it one more time, right Makkachin?”  Yuuri said softly, receiving a lazy flop of tail in response and one half-opened eye.  “You can do that for him, right, boy?”

 

A little huff and a couple more thumps of his tail and Makkachin was back to sleep, and the sound of his fiancé walking down the hallway pulled Yuuri out of his one-sided conversation with the dog.  The shot-glass in Victor’s left hand was ready for a refill of vodka from the bottle he left on the kitchen island when he disappeared to make his Skype Call to Chris, who was probably taking a shot of something of his own by now to recover from it.  Maybe Yuuri needed to text an “I’m sorry” to Chris later. Again.

 

“Sorry about that, malysh~.  There’s just so much  _ planning,  _ especially since we’ll be losing a day traveling!  I had to make sure Chris knew that we changed our minds about the table linens and the forks, and I wanted to make sure he and the planners understood that we had to have 16 rooms reserved, not 15, 16, and why is it so hard for him to remember that?  I told him about the change two days ago!” 

 

The words were a flood coming from Victor’s excited face as he kissed Yuuri on the temple, refilled his shot glass, and took his place at the table.  A sort-of rushed “Itadakimasu” from the pair of them commenced their meal, and no sooner had Victor swallowed his first bite of grilled chicken from his salad and proclaimed “Vkusno!”, he was off and running again, “I hope that everyone received their reservations by now; oh, and we had a late RSVP from one of my long-time sponsors and his wife, he can’t make it, but his wife wanted to attend, so she’s coming, so that’s why we need the 16th room,-”

 

“Vitya.”

 

“-but she’ll probably want to book herself her own suite, but I have to give her the option, you know?  And, God, Yuuri, you should see the jewelry this woman has, it’s amazing~, oh, I forgot to probably mention them to you, but her husband is the jeweler, and he’s always been kind to me ever since I was a kid, okay?, and, anyway, I was sort of hoping she would let me wear something from their collection, you know, something borrowed? Maybe cufflinks? So I have to call her again in the morning before we leave to let her know I got her RSVP, and to ask her that, and-”

 

On and on and on and  _ ON _ .

 

That’s  _ it _ .  Yuuri let his fork fall rather noisily upon his plate and he took a sharp breath. 

 

_ “Victor.” _

 

The deluge of words suddenly stopped toward the sound of Yuuri’s voice and that it was “Victor” and not “Vitya”  to whom it was spoken.

 

“What?”  he replied softly.

 

Yuuri picked up his fork again and gathered some salad upon its tines, letting the quiet sink in for a minute as he took a few very carefully methodical bites.  Sometimes quiet got Victor’s attention much more effectively than would a bullhorn from the most avid Russian fan at a hockey game. He looked up and Victor had that somewhat guarded expression, the look of someone who definitely had gotten caught with his hands in the proverbial cookie jar.  Good.

 

“Breathe.  Eat. Drink.  Take more shots, I don’t care,  but do something,  _ anything _ , but talk about That Topic of Discussion for the remainder of the evening, please.”

 

“But, Yuu~~~ri, you need to know these things!  It’s Our Wed-”

 

“I  _ do _ know these things,”  Yuuri sternly interrupted, but, seeing the flicker of disappointment cross the ice-blue eyes of the man he loved, he decided to try and be a little less high-key pissed off and shoot for maybe a little more low-key pissed off.  “I do, Vitya.” It worked. Victor’s expression relaxed some, but he was still sort of pouting, probably reflexively, but he made no comment and he reached for his wine glass and took a sip. “Now, if you want me to say ‘I Do’ when I’m supposed to like a good groom-to-be, then please, for the love of all that is Holy:  Stop. Talking. About it.”

 

“Okay,”  Victor grumbled and took advantage of the permission for more vodka and knocked back his shot before reaching for his wine glass again.

 

“Good.  Now, then, I propose a Rule.”

 

Victor’s pout deepened beyond the reflexive one from the previous moment;  Victor didn’t like rules, loved to break them, often forgot them, and got a pass for it almost every damn time because he was so goddamn gorgeous-

 

Wait.  Yuuri was getting off track.  He needed to do this. He had Victor’s attention for the moment.  He took another breath.

 

“All day long, you can bring up That Topic with anyone who will listen to you.  Make your plans, drive Chris insane, yell at more caterers, gripe about fucking forks, switch the flowers for the tenth time, whatever you want.  But, in the evenings, starting at  _ dinnertime _ , you will Stop Talking About It.”

 

“But, Yuuri-”

 

“That’s The Rule.  Take it or leave it.”

 

“Or what,”  Victor mumbled through a couple of petulant bites of lettuce.  

 

“Or we won’t do anymore of  _ this _ until Our Thing,” he replied as he leaned over and their lips met, Yuuri feeling emboldened by being the Creator of the Rule, and really,  _ really _ , wanting for Victor to follow it.  He made his case with assertive swipes of tongue and nips of teeth on Victor’s bottom lip that caused the fork to slip from his lover’s hands and clatter to the floor, salad and wine and, hopefully, That Topic of Discussion, momentarily forgotten.

 

When the kiss broke for the need of breath, Yuuri took in the sight of an utterly surprised Victor, panting, flushed, and obviously nicely distracted.  “Do we have a deal, Vitya?”

 

“Can I make one condition?”

 

No.  No. Don’t try and weasel your way out of this, Nikiforov, love of his life, Sun in his Sky, Ice Skating Legend, Gorgeous, Hot, Amazing in Bed-

 

Fuck.

 

“What condition,”  Yuuri replied cautiously, ready to whip out a “no” so fast that Victor’s head might actually  _ spin _ if he didn’t like what he was about to hear.

 

“I’ll agree if we skip the rest of dinner and go to bed.  Now.”

 

Okay.  Well played, Vitya.  Well played.

 

Yuuri mock-considered, putting what he hoped was a deadly serious expression on his face before he removed his glasses and deliberately set them down on the table.  “I accept your condition. Be ready for me.”

 

Victor took a quick and less-than-polite-sized sip from his glass to drain the last of his wine and took off for the bedroom, tossing an, “I’ll do the dishes later, malysh,” over his shoulder along with his shirt before he even left the room.

 

Yuuri took a leisurely sip from his own wine glass, enjoying the sweet smoothness of the beverage as he took his phone out of his pocket.  He found Chris’s contact entry and typed an apology to their friend which got an immediate response of ten various drink emoji and another ten dead smiley faces.  “I know. Sorry again. Try living with it.” Send.

 

Buzz.  “I can only imagine your pain.  You are officially up for SAINTHOOD.  Remind me to write the Vatican on your behalf.  You’re definitely my favorite right now. Love you, Darling.”

 

Yuuri felt a smile curl to his lips; the apology sent, his wine finished, and dinner now an afterthought because it was  _ quiet _ .  He exhaled and rose to join Victor in bed where he knew it probably would get loud again.

 

Oh well.

 

Worth it.

 

***

 

A few weeks later found them still in Hasetsu, and Victor had been a total fucking Bridezilla, and, yes, Yuuri learned about that term from his own best friend Phichit Chulanont.  Victor was constantly Skyping and calling and emailing, and Skyping again, and then writing a ridiculous amount of phone numbers and memos in his little day planner that was bursting at the seams.  It was overflowing with fabric samples, and photos, and what he called “Idea Book Items”, whatever the fuck  _ that _ might be, until Mari, in a fit of exasperation, flicked one of the large rubber bands which held stalks of leeks together at him from across the kitchen, telling him to use it to keep his book from leaving a trail of destruction throughout the inn with all the shit that fell out of it every time he got up to walk to another room.  Even Yuuko and the girls had managed to find a few clippings at the rink and brought them by, for which Victor thanked them profusely because he had been looking for “Just that thing!” and Yuuri found himself either at the rink whenever possible with Nishigori, or helping his father in the kitchen during lunch service while Victor and his mother read Every.  Single. Wedding. Magazine. In. Japan together, communicating in halted Japanese and even more halted English, like two peas in a fucking prenuptial pod.

 

God, Yuuri was sighing a lot.

 

But, The Rule had been kept.

 

At dinnertime, the phone calls went to voicemail, the texts relating to That Topic of Discussion  went unanswered, the email notifications turned off, and the decrepit dayplanner was left on the bookshelf in “Victor’s Room”, which they had now shared since the two previous summers, which was, sort of, embarrassing, because this was Yuuri’s  _ childhood home _ , but yeah, okay, it was bigger, and the bed was bigger, and it was further away from his parents’ room and Victor, even when he was being quiet, sort of, and understood, sort of, that it was rude, sort of,  to be doing H stuff in the home of Yuuri’s parents- 

 

Okay.  Yuuri was, sort of, happy with the fact that Victor’s Room had stayed Victor’s Room, even after Yuuri went to live with him in Russia.  Somehow, in the interim, his own room had been turned into “storage”. 

 

Hmm.

 

But their evenings were relaxing, calm, and The Rule was in full effect, and Yuuri rewarded his Vitya for adhering to it as much as he possibly could without being totally disrespectful to where they  _ were _ …Sometimes Victor made it so easy to forget that they shouldn’t be getting up to no good together between the sheets his sister was supposed to wash.  

 

So Yuuri, generously, offered to split the washing and Mari was all too happy to oblige him with the sharing of the chore.  The  _ things _ he had to  _ do _ to protect The Rule and keep his evenings free of That Topic of Discussion…

 

Of course, Victor was one of those  _ things _ , so, again, worth it.   The Rule was Absolute.

 

Yuuri was a fucking genius for coming up with it, and his only real regret was that he hadn’t thought it up a hell of a lot sooner.  He was sure Chris was wishing that he was able to have a Rule too; and, by extension, his own groomsman Phichit for having to help Chris with whatever was Victor’s Daily Bidding as Bridezilla.

 

Chris and Phichit were getting those ridiculously fabulous Best Man gifts Victor selected, though, so Yuuri chalked it up to them having to earn the gifts’ similarly ridiculous price tags.  Cartier and Tiffany & Co. aren’t cheap, and neither is a trunk full of Chacott for Phichit’s upcoming Ice Show.

 

They’ll survive without a Rule for just a little bit longer.  

 

Even his mother had adhered to The Rule, after being told about it, despite her excitement to have a, well, a Thing, at the onsen, especially since it didn’t look like Mari would be making it happen for her anytime soon if Dumped Boyfriend #12 was any indication of how that was going.  Yuuri thought that Victor was more like the “daughter Hiroko never had” the way they got so excited about guests and planning and food; it was something, and Mari, for her part, was just as pleased since okaasan didn’t have time to nag her about any of her own “situations” since she now had Victor around to keep her busy.  She was more than fine with it. Except when it happened during the lunch rush. That sucked.

 

“Can’t you extend The Rule to lunch, Yuuri,”  Mari complained half-heartedly to him one day when Victor and Hiroko were excitedly on their way to visit a baker friend of their parents’ for what Yuuri learned was a “sampling” of desserts for the reception to go along with the Thing Cake Victor had ordered from a different bakery not 5 kilometers away.

 

“I wish,” Yuuri responded with a little laugh in spite of himself.  He didn’t count on his mom getting so into it, he didn’t count on Victor having her as a willing participant in all of the endless errands, he didn’t count on mom letting him  _ drive the van!  _ despite Yuuri’s  _ desperate _ insistence that Victor was a  _ shit _ driver who drove a teeny-tiny-sportscar and had no business driving a fucking van where the steering wheel was on  _ the complete opposite side! _ …Yuuri was pretty fucking sure that his Russian Issued International Driver’s License wasn’t legit for use in Japan.

 

Mari gave him a gentle punch to the arm.  “He’s so happy though, isn’t he? And okaasan is in Heaven, I’m sure.  She’s having so much fun.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Hmm.

 

It was true; his mother seemed to be walking on air whenever Victor had a new idea or a new  _ anything _ he wanted to show her.  Yuuri had, at first, supposed that she was just happy that her son was coming home somewhat regularly for visits, or happy that she’d finally learned, somewhat, how to use Skype on an older laptop of Victor’s that they had brought on their last visit and left there for Yuuri’s family to use.  He thought it was just that, at first, that there would be no more five-year-long absences from home.

 

But, now, and, maybe it had started the previous summer, or maybe even before then, he wasn’t sure, but now, Yuuri had come to think that, maybe, it wasn’t about “just that” anymore for his mother.

 

The days had continued, the summer in Hasetsu was filled with the scent of the sea and the onsen, and Victor, despite being in Bridezilla mode, always seemed to relax more here.  It was as though Hatsetsu was becoming maybe just as important to him as was St. Petersburg, and Yuuri sometimes had the thought that Victor was more comfortable and happier at the onsen than he was in his own hometown. 

 

Victor and his mother were out on yet another “fact-finding mission” and so Yuuri went to seek some quiet at the rink in between the skate classes and freestyle sessions; of course he usually preferred to have the rink to himself, but, now that he was retired, he couldn’t ask the Nishigori to shut it down for private practice like they had done for him when he was still competing.  So he usually put on earbuds and worked compulsories in a corner while the kids had their classes and while the novice free session took place. Occasionally he’d demo a few things for the kids, but that was definitely not his ideal situation. If he were to take students, he thought he might prefer for it to be one student at a time.

 

He hadn’t even decided yet if that was what he should be doing.  As much as he adored Victor and loved him, the Topic of Discussion and the Thing had taken over most of his spare time, so Yuuri hadn’t been able to really ask for advice as to what he should do.  So, for now, he was just enjoying the offseason, and, he knew despite his annoyances about all the fuss leading up to it, that he would also enjoy the Thing; family, friends, food, dancing...hopefully he wouldn’t get too drunk. 

 

He arrived at the Ice Castle and laced up, trying to ignore the excitement coming from some of the children and parents who noticed him as he walked out of the locker room.  No. He shouldn’t do that.

 

So he waved and said hello,  trying to emulate Victor’s effortless “Hi~~!” as best he could; even if he knew it wasn’t 100%, he was trying.  He took the ice, selected some music and skated a few laps around the perimeter before finding his corner to practice figures.

 

And he thought again about being here in Hasetsu in the summertime, with Victor, sharing the bedroom, chores, Ice Castle,  sharing his parents: his parents probably liked Victor more than they liked him. 

 

No.  That wasn’t right. 

 

His parents always loved and supported him, even when he didn’t realize that was what they were doing.  No. There was really only one conclusion at which he could arrive: his family loved him, and his family loved _ Victor _ , maybe almost as much as he did.

 

Aside from all of the Thing-related stuff, he noticed that his mother had the same look for Victor as she had toward her own children:  somewhat indulgent, but full of love and support, right down to calling the good-looking foreigner “Vicchan” almost from the moment he arrived on that snowy April day when Yuuri wasn’t sure what he should have been doing with his life anymore.

 

His father, too, had managed to find his own niche with Victor, teaching him the Ways of the Sagan Tosu soccer team, and where to find the best ramen and the strongest cocktails in town.  This was accomplished with Yuuri as translator since his dad was more reluctant to attempt English, even though Victor would not have minded, and even though Dad’s English was at least 50% better than Mom’s.  But Victor and Hiroko seemed to have figured out a sort of bizarre hybrid speak of Japanese, English, and hand gestures that appeared to do the job both to their satisfaction and enjoyment. Whenever Dad needed something from a high shelf, he called out for Vicchan too, and Victor became a sort of personal human ladder for his otousan whenever something needed to get taken down or put away in storage.  Dad was really embarrassing like that, even going so far as to ask Victor if he would sign a menu that they could hang on the wall in hopes that proof that a Celebrity had stayed at the onsen might bring in just a touch more revenue. Victor did it without even blinking, despite Yuuri’s protests that he didn’t need to do it, the Russian Legend taking hold of a Sharpie and writing “Vkusno!!!!” across the entire width of the menu and signing his name with a ridiculous flourish and lots of hearts.   Dad, really. Exploitation by autographed menu? Really?!

 

The old man better leave that menu to him in his will though.  Because...well, because of Reasons.

 

Yuuri did notice, however, that the school girls from the local high school and junior high school would stop in for tea more often since his dad hung it up, and the girls would point it out to their friends who hadn’t seen it before as they dissolved into giggles around a table in the dining room.  They always paid their bill and always ordered more than just tea too, so, maybe his old man was onto something after all. 

 

And Yuuri was the one who had the Piece of Paper from Wayne State University in Detroit which declared that he himself was the one in the family who was an  _ actual _ Businessman by degree.

 

Maybe Dad should have gone into marketing instead of maintaining the longtime family business, and Yuuri knew that Victor was excellent for marketing and had been since forever too.  The boxes of carefully stowed posters and other assorted magazine ads and articles was all the proof that was needed for that, and, even now that Victor had been retired for over a season, he still got a ridiculous amount of spokesmodel work that he sort of liked to do “on the side” just for fun and money.  And, oh, was there ever money in that. It was Shocking. But, it was a good shocking because Yuuri really worried that he was getting an ulcer over the amount of money Victor was shelling out for the Thing that was a scant two weeks away by this point.

And Victor, oh, how Victor adored his parents right back.  He never griped about being his dad’s human ladder, he never missed an opportunity to carry things out from the van for his mother.  He never forgot to declare any meal his mother made as vkusno, and the other guests adored him too; he was always cheerful and friendly toward the patrons, and he had that effortless charm that made everyone gravitate toward his energy, his startling good looks, his outgoing friendliness...wherever he went, the air of “special”, or even “magical” followed him.

 

No wonder Yuuri had been in love with him since before he even knew what love was.

 

Two weeks until the Thing.

 

And Yuuri skated compulsories, ignored the skate classes, cleared the ice for the Zam with the rest of the kids and instructors, and, when that was finished, he took the ice for a few moments of freestyle alone before the Novice Free session was to begin and he wouldn’t be able to take as much ice for fear of launching a triple right into a ten year old learning his first Waltz jump.

 

His life was so different now: he was now-retired, with Victor as his lover, friend, his precious person.  Different, good, crazy at times, but he wouldn’t trade it even with the annoying Topic of Discussion he just wanted over with so he could get his Vitya focused back on  _ him _ and not the Thing.  

 

God, he was pretty selfish when it came to Victor, wasn’t he?

 

Oh well.

 

As he worked through a couple of new step sequences he wanted to try, he thought about that; he  _ was _ pretty selfish.  He wanted the Thing, he did, really, but he hated the amount of time Victor spent on it.  Throughout the months of planning, Victor had called the Thing a Wedding anyway, and Yuuri finally stopped correcting him with that other little thing called Truth:  no matter that Victor had done everything humanly, and maybe super-humanly, possible to make the Thing in Hasetsu resemble the most ridiculously over the top Western-style Wedding, it was Not A Wedding.  They couldn’t get married there. They couldn’t get married in St. Petersburg either. That was Fact, and Yuuri had initially been frustrated with Victor’s unrivaled ability to conveniently ignore Facts whenever it suited him.

 

Did it really matter?  Yuuri asked himself that question over and over in the initial planning stages, because, really, what was the point?  They already loved each other. They were already living together. They were already sleeping together, and had been since the Cup of China that first Grand Prix with Victor as his coach, after Victor surprised the living fuck out of him and everyone else who saw it by launching himself into the Kiss Seen Around The World.

 

Two weeks.

 

Two weeks until the beginning of forever standing by Victor’s side, two weeks and their friends and Yuuri’s family would hear them make this promise to each other for all to see and hear.  Two weeks and he and Victor would have their Thing, and then they would jet off from Japan to the State of Hawaii so that they could make it Official with an actual Wedding. At first, Victor had sort of complained that a Hawaiian Beach Wedding and honeymoon, although relatively close to Japan for the sake of logistics and travel,  was so  _ cliché _ , or  _ gauche _ , or  _ overdone _ , or  _ not surprising at all! _ , or  _ whatever _ .  That was until he found out that it didn’t matter to the State of Hawaii that they weren’t even citizens of the United States; the State would give them a marriage license anyway.  That was all it took to open the floodgates, and Victor suddenly downloaded every book he could get his hands on about Hawaiian Destination Weddings, just in case they wanted to just fly everyone over there instead, which Yuuri vetoed immediately, and he researched all the forms and documents that they would need, and, he had also gushed, there was “no waiting period at all!  We can practically just  _ do it  _ right on the spot!”, and that the license fee and officiant fee were “dirt cheap too!”.  

 

However, Victor made up for  _ that _ by booking them the fucking Honeymoon Suite at a ridiculous Waikiki resort.  Of course he did.

 

And, just like that, Hawaii literally  _ was _ paradise to his Vitya.  After quietly reading about fifty articles online on various topics relating to US marriage law one evening, Victor sprang up from the couch and practically tumbled into the kitchen to tell him even more amazing Facts:  Yuuri learned because of his Vitya’s  _ extensive _ research, that even if they travelled to a State that didn’t recognize marriage between same-gendered partners, that the marriage itself was still considered valid and official anyway.  Not only that, but a Hawaiian marriage was legitimate in any  _ country _ that recognized same-gender marriage.  

 

Yuuri had to admit that was pretty amazing, actually.   That night had been one of the few times he sort of missed living in the States.  Nothing like that was happening in Japan anytime soon, and nevermind that it wasn’t happening in Russia, maybe for the next  _ ever _ .  There were times when Yuuri truly wondered why he was permitted to stay living with Victor after retirement from skating and after Victor was no longer officially his coach on paper somewhere on file with the JSF and the RSF.  He did wonder about it some nights when Victor was out with a sponsor, or for some RSF function he had to attend in his role as a coach and choreographer for Yuri Plisetsky and a couple of other rising stars he had taken on from the Junior Division.   The anxiety would start to gather itself around Yuuri’s brain with its prickly edges, and Makkachin would sense it, and start whimpering, and he would find himself alternatively pacing and checking the clock on his phone, his texts, his Insta, just for any indication that Victor was out there still breathing air.  Those were the nights that a sound from the corridor outside the door would cause him to jolt upright in a panic, thinking that “they” were coming to get him, and would deport him, and then not allow Victor to come see him, and not allow him back into the country-

 

Yeah, some nights weren’t great in Russia, especially at first.   

 

He wondered that if he himself was not an athlete, and that if Victor wasn’t  _ Victor Nikiforov _ , that, say, they were both just regular guys with regular workaday jobs, that his resident visa would not have been extended at all.  He wondered about that.

 

He wondered after one afternoon at the Yubileyniy when Yuri Plisetsky roughly pulled him aside and scolded him as if their ages were reversed, just because Yuuri needed to get a few specific grocery items the night before when Victor was not home,  and he GPSed a store that had the Tea That Didn’t Taste Like Shit and Fuck No I’m Not Putting Jam In It that he was looking for, and apparently it was in the  _ wrong neighborhood.   _ When Yuri had found out to where he had gone for his little shopping errand, he had almost punched him, lecturing him about thugs and mudaks and how some of them would just love to get their hands and maybe also their dicks on  _ Victor Nikiforov’s _ fucking  _ boyfriend _ .  Well.  Okay. Victor never said anything like that to him, although he did often insist that they go places by car more often than not…so Yuuri sometimes wondered.

 

The Ice Tiger  went on to complain that Victor would even be worse to live with if anything happened to him, and what did he say to that?  “Haaahh??!!” 

 

So Yuuri did wonder if there were things that maybe Victor was making efforts to shield him from in their daily lives in Russia, or he wondered if he was only relatively safe there because he was with  _ Victor,  _  because people tended to at least tolerate him as  “Victor’s Companion”, as he was usually referred to in the Russian Press when a reporter bothered to mention him at all.

 

Yuuri could tell that finding out that it was actually possible for them to marry, legally, legitimately, in the United States had a profound impact upon Victor after the exuberance had subsided and after he settled into bed with a glass of wine and a novel he was reading.  Yuuri had been laying next to him, listening to his Russian language course until he glanced over because he hadn’t heard the sound of a turning page in a while and he realized that Victor was staring out their bedroom window toward the moon.

 

“Is something wrong, Vitya?”  he remembered asking that night.

 

“No...nothing’s wrong, malysh.  I was just thinking.”

 

“About?”

 

A little huffing laugh escaped before he closed his book and placed it upon the nightstand in favor of taking another sip of wine.  “About why, if we are all people, why are the rules different from place to place? It kind of sucks when places you love have rules you hate.”

 

Ah.  Obviously he was thinking about it again, about how they could simply arrive in the States and get married, and how it would be Official, and how it wouldn’t be... _ wrong _ there.  Victor was really fixated on this being “Official”, for whatever reason.  But, clearly, he had a reason. He just hadn’t shared it yet, and Yuuri didn’t want to pry, even though he sometimes suspected it had less to do about the “official” and more to do about the “wrong”.

 

He also didn’t want to see Victor with that wistful look either when only hours before he had been so unbelievably happy about Hawaii.  Yuuri supposed that it was the whole “Pursuit of Happiness” thing that Americans truly believed was a God given right; if a couple of dudes decided they wanted to get hitched, all they had to do was show up in the right State and plunk a few USD down on the counter, and they could do it because, in the US, a good size chunk of the people really didn’t give a flying fuck about it.

 

“What, are you going to become an anarchist or something, Vitya?”  Yuuri quipped, trying to cajole a smile from his partner, “You should probably warn me about something like that.”

 

“Maybe that’s the answer!  Should I?” the man returned playfully, smiling, thank God, as he finished his last sip of wine and got up from the bed, ostensibly to return his glass to the kitchen.  Yuuri could hear him softly speaking to Makkachin in Russian, and then he returned to the bedroom after a quick stop into the en-suite to brush his teeth. He settled into the covers and had a thoughtful look in his eyes.  “Kiss me, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri pulled the earbuds out of his ears and put his phone and glasses upon his own nightstand, closing the light before joining Victor under the covers and sharing a soft kiss.  “Better?”

 

“Mmm...yes.  Much.” 

 

“Then what were you really thinking about?”

 

“I was thinking that if we marry in the US, I might piss a few people off here in Russia.”

 

“Then maybe we shouldn’t-”

 

“No,”  Victor interrupted firmly, “we  _ should _ .  Pissing people off is just a nice side benefit.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t piss off the people who pay your salary, Vitya.”

 

“Yeah, but they’re used to it.  They’ll get over it; it’s not like that piece of paper will mean anything to them anyway.  That’s for us.”

 

Actually, Yuuri had thought at the time, it was for Victor.  Yuuri didn’t need something that would probably be kept in a bank safe deposit box, but, obviously, Victor did need it.   

 

“Anyway,” he continued, “I’m just hoping that I can get a visa; this wouldn’t be considered a work-related trip, so, unless I can find a way to do a job of some kind over there, they might not grant it just for a vacation.”

 

“Hmm.  I’m sure you will use your powers of persuasion to convince them to let you get sunburned to a crisp on a Hawaiian beach.”

 

Even in the darkness, Yuuri could see Victor’s demeanor change.  “Oh? And who else could I convince to do something with my powers of persuasion, Yuu~~ri?  Any ideas?”

 

“I don’t need convincing.  Come here.”

 

And now, the Thing was two weeks away, the plans appeared to have been completed, and all they had to do now was wait for their guests to arrive.

 

Before he knew it, the freestyle session was over and the engine of the Zamboni started again, and again he had to clear the ice.  He looked at the schedule and saw that the Juniors were up next; if he recalled correctly, there were only about 7 skaters. He could stay and skate some more, because the juniors were older and knew how to get out of the way and to alert other skaters when they needed a corner-diagonal for a jump or a long step sequence.

 

As he greeted the instructors as they arrived, he looked at his phone.  It was almost dinnertime, time for The Rule to go into effect. He’d stay until then so he could sort out his brain and gear up to being able to avoid that Topic of Discussion for another day.

 

Why was it so important to Victor to have some piece of paper that meant nothing when they returned either to Japan or to Russia?  What was the big deal about Official, or Not Official?

 

Yuuri had no idea, and no real reason to ask Victor about that once he started pissing him off with all the planning in earnest for the Thing.  That had been Yuuri’s stance on it, for the most part, having taken the “out” Victor gave him when Victor swore up and down that he wouldn’t have to lift a finger with regard to any of the arrangements, that he wouldn’t have to plan parties or coordinate room reservations and airplane reservations, or figure out seating arrangements because maybe somebody’s “plus one” didn’t like somebody else’s Plus One. 

 

Or talk to people.  

 

He would have had Yuuri at just that, actually.

 

“I’ll take care of everything, malysh,” he had said with that irrepressible smile, “You won’t have to worry about a thing.  It’ll be perfect, just like you~~~!!” 

 

Yuuri couldn’t resist that smile, and he basically took the pass and checked out of the entire deal, just showing up when needed for carrying samples, or magazines, or gifts for friends, or fittings, which wasn’t too bad since he was used to that from so many years of having costume fittings for skating, and also because Victor loved for him to try things on when doing the dreaded Shopping.  It wasn’t that bad, doing the minimum, as long as he looked the other way when whatever they were purchasing was tallied up by the cashier.

 

This had been going on for months, had escalated to that dreaded fever pitch that had prompted The Rule, and now the Thing was two weeks away, and Yuuri had started to really think about it.

 

_ “I’ll take care of everything, malysh.” _

 

Wait. 

 

What had Victor said?

 

“It’ll be perfect”?  No. Not that. Of course it would be perfect because Victor was the one creating it.

 

_ “You won’t have to worry about a thing.” _

 

Oh.

 

Oh.

 

Yuuri had signaled that he wanted a diagonal when he had the thought, and he flutzed a triple Lutz so badly the triplets who had arrived with Yuuko were laughing at him hard from the boards and wishing they had recorded it.

 

Victor was doing everything so Yuuri wouldn’t have to  _ worry _ .

 

Victor wanted it to be perfect.

 

A perfect Thing.

 

A perfect...Wedding.

 

Huh.

  
  



	2. Topic of Discussion:  Family

When Yuuri returned to the onsen that evening, later than he had planned because he felt the need for more compulsories, Victor was nowhere to be found.  He asked Mari, and challenged his father to tell him whether or not he gave a bar recommendation to his Victor, but neither of them seemed to know where the good-looking foreigner had gone.  “Ask your mother,” offered Dad helpfully. 

 

Obviously.  Or he could just call him.

 

He was about to call out to his mother from the entrance of the kitchen when he saw her leafing through an old family photo album, a crumpled tissue in her hand with which she kept wiping away tears as they fell from under the rims of her glasses.

 

“Okaasan?  What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

 

His mother looked up with that same indulgent smile and shook off her tears.  “Oh, sweetheart, sit down.”

 

“Okay…?”  Where was Victor?  He really wanted to know, but now he had the more immediate problem of a crying mom.  Why?

 

“Yuuri,” she began,  “I think I may have upset your Dear Vicchan...I’m so sorry…”

 

“Eh?  I’m pretty sure that’s not possible;  he adores you...loves you,” Yuuri replied, reaching for another tissue to replace the tattered remains his mother held in her hand.  He glanced downward toward the photo album, and cringed slightly toward the sight of a photo of a very chubby toddler with a face full of cake frosting from his third birthday party.  “What happened, Okaasan? Please tell me.”

 

The small woman took a breath.  “Well, I was talking to Fujimoto-san at the market, and we sort of got to babbling about our event, and she mentioned that her daughter had made a beautiful collage of photos of both bride and groom, starting with baby pictures, right up to current ones to display by the guest book.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“And so I thought, ‘what a lovely idea’, and I thought Vicchan would love it too, so I brought out one of your albums to show him, and he thought you were so cute...but…then...”

 

Hiroko wrung her hands and took another breath and wiped her eyes.  Yuuri waited. On the one hand, how  _ embarrassing! _ , and no way was he going to put his chubby naked baby pictures on  _ display _ !  No, just... _ no _ .  But on the other hand, he thought this would be right up Victor’s alley, a shit-ton of photos, artfully displayed, right by where all their guests would sign the book and leave them cutsey messages or well wishes...so why...this?

 

“I,”  his mother continued, “...asked him if he could ask his family to bring some of his baby pictures when they came in from Russia…and, oh, Yuuri...”

 

His mom almost hopped off from the kitchen stool and into his arms where he could feel her trembling.  His mother rarely got this upset about anything. This was heading for Not Good really fast, and what really happened, and where was Victor, and why was he upset and why was his mom thinking she upset him, and-

 

“Okaasan, please, don’t cry, I’m sure it-”

 

“I didn’t know, Yuuri, I’m so sorry.  I hope Vicchan will forgive me…”

 

“Shh...didn’t know what?”

 

His mother gripped his forearms with as much force as her tiny hands could muster, “He said that there weren’t any such photos, and no family coming to bring them...oh Yuuri…”

 

He felt every muscle in his body tighten, the tell-tale signs of the rushed breathing, the scattered thoughts, the dizzying spin of the room...No.  No! He couldn’t panic  _ now _ when okaasan was so upset...no.  

 

Stop.

 

Breathe.

 

Breathe.

 

Okay.

 

Okay.   So he knew that Victor never talked about his family, or really any part of his youth before skating; it was just sort of an unspoken rule at the rink, and Yuuri always figured that he would, in time, but, God, was he a fucking Idiot not to realize that not even one family member was planning to come?  Not  _ one?! _  And then, to have his mom, of  _ all people _ , a woman who shooed away flies instead of swatting them, accidentally discuss that taboo subject with his lover before even Yuuri knew anything about it himself?  

 

Oh dear God.

 

Yuuri felt so stupid.  _ Stupid _ .  He should have paid more attention to that fucking guest list, should have asked why it was that he never met one single relative in over two years, should not have just accepted that in Russia they don’t really celebrate birthdays or Christmas, and should have asked why Victor never received any gifts or cards from anyone named “Nikiforov” in the mail on his double-whammy of a Christmas Birthday, should have told his mom about the unspoken rink rule, should have-

 

“Yuuri, I...don’t think Vicchan has a family…,”  his mother said, sobbing again as she held fast to his chest and as he tried to soothe her the way Victor often soothed him, tracing gentle patterns on her back with light fingertips and whispering hushing noises...it was working.  Maybe. At least for his mom it was; he, however, was rapidly dissolving into a total  _ Wreck _ .

 

“I...don’t know, okaasan.  He never talked to me about it,” he whispered, “so there’s no way you could have known either, okay?  I’m sure he realizes that, and I’m sure he isn’t upset with you, and I’m sure he would not want you to think you had to apologize.  I’m sure he didn’t even think anything of saying it, he probably said it with a smile, ne?”

 

“Oh Yuuri...you do know him well, don’t you,” she said, “that’s exactly what he said, and he said it with a smile too.”

 

“Then, why are you so upset?”

 

“Because...it wasn’t the right smile.  It...was the one we see on the tv…”

 

Oh God.  

 

So even his mother could tell the difference, and that thought nearly pulled the air out of his lungs.  

 

_ Where was Victor?  _

 

He needed to go to him, needed to find him, call him, text?  Where would he go? A bar? The ramen shop?  _ Where?! _

 

“He took Makkachin...but it has been a while, and I…”  Yuuri could feel his mom relax a little, probably in response to his own heightened anxiety.  “Yuuri, go to him,” she said, more firmly, “please make sure he knows he has a family here. With us…”

 

_ A family _ .

 

_ With us. _

 

Oh God, was this why Victor was so desperate to have something Official?  To make the two of them a “real” family? 

 

“You need to take care of him,” his mother continued, composing herself more as Yuuri tried not to completely unravel.  “He gives so much...you must give too, Yuuri.”

 

“Y-yes.  I know,” he managed to eke out.  “I’m going to look for him, but you need to know that there is no need to apologize.  He wouldn’t want that, I’m certain of it.”

 

His mother nodded, although Yuuri was pretty sure she still felt as though she needed to apologize, but he’ll take the tacit agreement for now.  

 

“I’ll be back.”

 

He made his way to the door and tugged on his shoes and took off running.  Since he had the dog, Yuuri thought that he might know to where Victor would go:  the beach.

 

They had spent many moments there, mainly in the evenings over the summers spent in Hasetsu, the cooler seabreeze offering a respite to the otherwise humid air that Victor still had a difficult time bearing since he grew up in a place so cold.

 

Yuuri was starting to realize that Russia might be cold in many more ways than one.

 

He didn’t run to the beach with any demands in mind for Victor to tell him about his life.  People had a right to keep things private, even from the ones they loved. It hurt a little, but Yuuri realized that it probably hurt Victor even more.  He was so open in so many ways, in practically every way, but this. Yuuri did not begrudge him this.

 

And so he decided that he would not demand for all the “should haves” that raced through his mind as he held his mother, that he would simply give whatever Victor would take.

 

He would meet him where he was on this, like Victor had met him so many times before.

 

He approached the beach and, thankfully, there Victor sat with his dog, looking out to sea, the moon managing to shine through the overcast evening sky, reflecting off of his hair and fair skin;  Makkachin obviously heard him approach before his master did, but it didn’t take but a second for Victor’s head to turn in his direction when he felt the dog react. Makkachin may be an old man, but his hearing was still sharp as ever.

 

Victor had a smile on his face, and, thank God, it was not the fake one. He beckoned for Yuuri to come and sit with him on the cool sand; he had taken off his sandals and his toes were wiggling, allowing the sand to pass over and under them.  Yuuri approached and sat down and got a paw on his leg for his trouble. “Good boy, Makkachin,” he said quietly before settling in and following Victor’s gaze toward the sea.

 

“I didn’t mean to stay out this long,” Victor commented at length,  “I guess I just needed some time with this good old boy here,” he said, ruffling the soft fur behind Makkachin’s ears, the dog’s head firmly affixed to his lap.  

 

“Vitya…”

 

“We find ourselves at this beach a lot, don’t we?”

 

“Hm.”

 

Yes.  They did.  For whatever reason, they always returned to this spot to talk, or sometimes just to enjoy the sound of the waves and of the black-tailed gulls to take a break from a morning run.  Even in St. Petersburg, Victor sometimes ended up at the pier in the mornings before Yuuri would wake, and when Yuuri would arrive to meet up with him for their morning coffee or tea, he would be looking outward toward the waves, seemingly to be deep in thought.  Yuuri always wondered what his Vitya could be thinking about with such an expression, but before any question would escape, he’d turn and wave to him in greeting with that miraculous heart-shaped smile.

 

“I need to apologize to Hiroko-san, Yuuri...I upset her.  I’m sorry; I’ll head back now and tell her.”

 

Victor started to move but Yuuri put a hand on his shoulder.  “She doesn’t want that, Vitya. She thinks she’s the one who needs to apologize, but I told her you wouldn’t think that.”

 

A sigh.  “Shit. Your mother is the second-to-last person on this earth that I’d want upset with me.  Of course she doesn’t need to apologize; I’m sure I came off as flippant. I...didn’t mean that.”

 

The waves gently collapsed upon the shore, and Makkachin’s even breathing and warmth provided a calm that Yuuri was trying to tap into as he searched for the right words, as he tried not to pry.  It wasn’t working. Maybe Victor would understand, though, maybe he wouldn’t be angry, or worse, maybe he wouldn’t make appear the dreaded Crying-God-Awful-Tears-And-Also-Angry Combo package. Yuuri needed way more lead time to prepare for  _ that _ , and he didn’t have it.  He’d been hit with the Crying Mom already, and he wasn’t quite sure he had enough breathing exercises readily on tap to encounter another set of tears, especially if Victor applied the Angry to the waterworks.

 

He took what he hoped wasn’t the last calming breath in his arsenal and Victor seemed to be a million miles away as he absently stroked Makkachin’s curls, and Yuuri just wanted to know.  Even if Victor didn’t feel comfortable telling him everything, maybe he could just tell him One Thing. A Small Thing.

 

Anything.

 

Here goes nothing, then.

 

“Mom told me you don’t have any family coming to the Thing.”

 

The elder exhaled and the toes stopped wiggling in the sand.  Victor kept looking outward toward the inky water that had the slightest silver shimmer where it reflected the overcast moonlight.  “My family  _ is _ coming:  the people I’ve  _ chosen _ as family,” he asserted quietly.  “Plus, one or ten others,” he added with a little wink and a smile glanced in Yuuri’s direction before he looked out to sea again. 

 

“Vitya-”

 

“And, it’s after dinner; aren’t you breaking The Rule about this Topic of Discussion?” he asked softly with that little huffing laugh. 

 

“Hm.  As the Creator of The Rule, I’m suspending it for this conversation.”

 

“Ah. Okay.”

 

The quiet enveloped them again, and the seabreeze carried some of the fine strands of silver hair with it making them to appear so delicate, like filament, like spun glass in the moonlight…

 

Fragile.

 

“You, Chris, all of our friends, Makkachin,...that’s my family, Yuuri.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“And Yakov,” he added with a chuckle, “he’s more than a coach to me, malysh.  He’s like a father to me. I personally take credit for making him lose his hair.”

 

“I figured.”

 

No, they would not go into more detail about why there were no Nikiforovs on the guest list tonight.  Yuuri could tell Victor wasn’t ready, and he at least owed him that. He did hope that would change someday, but, for today, just being on this quiet beach with Victor, connecting with him in whatever small way, was enough.

 

“And Lilia, well, she wasn’t quite the motherly type as you might imagine,”  Victor went on, “but from whom do you think I got my impeccable taste and fashion sense?  Not from Yakov, that’s for sure. He has shirts older than I am.”

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but to be pulled into Victor’s magic, even if he thought Victor was just trying to lighten the mood or to deflect the conversation away from something he didn’t want to tell.  Yuuri had to be there for him, and, indeed, this was as far as Victor was willing to go tonight, it seemed. It was a start, though.

 

But then Victor added one more spoken thought:  “I will tell you this,” he said softly, “I owe Yakov pretty much everything.  That man has saved me from myself more times than I care to admit.”

 

Makkachin took his head off of Victor’s lap and laid it upon Yuuri’s, giving Yuuri the opportunity to run his hands through the soft warm curls.  Yuuri remained silent, allowing the thought to hang in the evening air, trying not to let his mind wander to what could have been going on in Victor’s life that required that much saving.  So that was his One Thing for tonight. They sat for a few moments more, Makkachin started to snore, and then Victor spoke again.

 

“I’m so happy that Makkachin is here, and that Yakov and Lilia are both coming, but...it’s not exactly like…,” his voice trailed off and he shook his head, as if to rid himself of a thought he didn’t want to speak aloud.  “Nevermind.”

 

“What, Vitya?”  Yuuri whispered,  “Please tell me. I’m going to be your...um..your husband soon, right?”

 

Toward this, Victor turned to face him with that intense look he got whenever he was shocked and didn’t know whether or not to believe what he heard or saw.  “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that,” he breathed.

 

Yuuri felt his cheeks heat; it still felt weird saying “husband” after all, but, obviously, he was going to have to get used to it, what with it being made Official in Hawaii after the Thing took place in Hasetsu.   “Y-yeah..but, what were you going to say? About Yakov and Lilia…”

 

Victor brushed off one of his hands on his shorts and raised it to Yuuri’s flushed cheek.  “Yakov and Lilia, they essentially raised me, even when they divorced, they both guided me, and I think of them as if they were my parents.  And of course I have my Makkachin.”

 

Yuuri nodded; it was clear that Coach Yakov also loved his Vitya, he was the only other person Yuuri had met in Russia who called him that.  And Madame, as stern as she was, Yuuri knew that underneath the stoic former Prima aesthetic, she had a deep love for beauty and for all things beautiful, and no one could argue that Victor Nikiforov wasn’t beautiful.  So Yuuri understood that she probably loved Victor too, at least in her own way.

 

And Makkachin had to be here too, Yuuri had taken care of that himself.  Maybe he had subconsciously sensed something like this was going on from before after all.

 

“Not everyone is lucky enough to have been born into a family with an Hiroko-san, or a Toshiya-san, or a neesan like Mari, Yuuri.  There is so much Life and Love here, that I feel blessed to be able to share in some of it.”

 

“Blessed?”  Yuuri thought that was an odd choice of words; Victor was not really a religious person.

 

“I know, I know, but I can’t think of a word that describes it better than that. It’s a feeling, you know?  I often think of Hasetsu as home now...and that’s why it is so important to me to have this ‘Thing’ here. And I know it has been a big ridiculous production, and I know you’ve been annoyed with it, but, I want everyone I love as family to see that you and I are also a real family now.   I know I need to tell you more, but, let me have this celebration of now, here, with you and the people we love, where everyone is happy and might be able to experience a teeny tiny bit of the joy I have with you every day.”

 

“Oh, Vitya…”  

So that was it; he wanted a Real Family, something documented and something more tangible than just simply choosing or simply feeling.  For all that Victor was over-the-top, exuberant, cheerful, even  _ ridiculous _ , there was an underneath that Yuuri had started to discover, had started to assemble the vague pieces of things slipped out and of those sometimes uncertain looks, and those occasional God-awful tears, and now Yuuri thought he Knew.

 

Victor was terrified of being alone and unloved, because maybe, at some point in his life, he actually  _ was _ .

 

And probably not many people in the world at large would believe that, and that was probably exactly what Victor wanted.  It made perfect sense now: the Thing, the guests, the huge party, the food, the drinks, the dancing, the photographers, the  _ everything _ .  Victor needed the world to know that he had someone to love him.  And for some bizarre reason, that someone he wanted to love him was Yuuri.

 

Maybe Yuuri needed to stop calling it the “Thing” now.

 

“Vitya, I am really happy about Our Wedding here in Hasetsu, and then our Official Wedding in Hawaii.”

 

Victor snapped his head to look at him, eyes wide, mouth open, the surprise clear in his expression.  “You said ‘Wedding’,” he whispered.

 

“Yeah, I did,”  Yuuri replied, shifting his weight a little nervously as he sat.  “Let’s go home. The Rule is back in effect.”

 

Victor’s expression softened again, and they roused Makkachin to take the lead once more for the walk back to the onsen.  When they walked in after seeing to cleaning Makkachin’s paws and brushing the sand from his coat before letting him inside, Hiroko came to the genkan in response to their “Tadaima”. Before Yuuri knew what was happening, Victor bowed and said in his halted Japanese:  “Boku wa... Hiroko-san no...eto... shinpai no tame ni...gomennasai.”

 

Yuuri put his hand lightly on the small of Victor’s back to indicate that he could raise himself.  

 

“Yuuri,” his mother said quietly,  “please tell Vicchan that I am glad he’s  _ home _ ,  and please tell him that I will always worry about him whether he likes it or not.  That’s a mother’s job.”

 

Yuuri felt his own eyes widen and he looked at Victor who obviously was spinning his little translation gears in his head and not quite understanding but trying, God, was he trying.  He swallowed and softly conveyed the message. Victor looked back and forth between Yuuri and his mother, and Yuuri could see the glistening that was starting to appear at the corners of his eyes before he shook it off and smiled again. The right kind of smile.   “Thank you…”

 

The two men made their way inside to ready themselves for bed.  It was very early by Yuuri’s standards, but he could tell that Victor was ready to call it a day.   “Are you going to be up for a while, malysh?”

 

“No, I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”

 

Victor put down his book and slid himself down into the bed, opening his arms for a hug.  Yuuri closed the light and melted into it. The breeze was cooler now, and the fuurin sounded its gentle ring. It seemed like the beach worked its magic to reset them once again, as it always did.  Makkachin had settled into his dog bed and Yuuri placed a kiss upon Victor’s chest. 

 

And then another.

 

And another.

 

And then, he raised his head and found Victor’s soft lips, and gently parted them with his tongue.  He heard a hum of approval, and Yuuri took it as agreement. “Vitya...let me love you…”

 

The “yes” came with arms tightening their circle around him and a breathy exhalation.

 

“Let me take care of you, Vitya…”

 

Another hitched breath, and Yuuri knew exactly what he wanted, exactly what Victor needed.  Hands roamed, entwined, and released as Yuuri moved in a slow and gentle motion, awakening Victor’s body with every light touch.  Yuuri trailed kisses down that impeccable core, and gently pulled off underclothes without ever losing the touch of his lips upon Victor’s freshly bathed skin.

 

God, he was gorgeous, every inch of him so, and, for as much as Victor always offered protection and love for him, Yuuri knew that it was Victor who needed both of those things just as much.

 

Or maybe even more.

 

As the lovemaking began, Yuuri kept the pace slow, tender, and gentle, coaxing pleasure and not demanding it, each press inside deeper than the previous, until Victor started trembling beneath him, pulling him down for needful kisses that craved for praise, craved for closeness, craved for...intimacy.

 

And so Yuuri gave it, each kiss punctuated by soft endearments in learned Russian, and declarations of “My beautiful Vitya” that flowed so freely from his own mouth that it startled him by how easy it was to lay them upon the man who had given him so much of himself.

 

As the urgency gradually grew between them, their bodies slick and gliding together in luxuriant friction, Victor, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, was finally nearing his end;  ragged gasps escaped along with a couple of moans that carried Yuuri’s name, but Yuuri suddenly didn’t care if Victor eventually stopped trying to keep his voice down. The breaths quickened,  and then the volume indeed increased a little, filled with “Love yous” and “deepers” and “mores”, the thickening of the hard length in Yuuri’s hand sending him the message as he pulled in time with his own deep penetration, until Victor issued a breathy demand that he kiss him. And, God, Victor was hungry for that, passionately exploring his mouth, barely allowing for air to pass through until he threw his head back and begged for Yuuri to make him come.  Oh, Yuuri could listen to that every day of his life.

 

And, because of the Thing, the Wedding, they really could have the rest of their lives together.

 

The thought made his own body stiffen, but he did not want for Victor to arrive at the peak alone.  No. “Isshou ni...Vitya,” he breathed between heated kisses and Victor’s moans, “together…love you..”

 

And that was all it took to feel the pulse of release in his hand as Victor spilled over, and as he felt his own come expel into the impossible clenching of Victor’s body as he rode out the remaining currents of bliss.

 

There were no more words spoken as they bathed together once more and returned to each other’s embrace in bed for sleep, with Victor wrapped around him and leaving soft kisses upon the nape of his neck as they settled.

 

As they lay together, Yuuri realized that he only had two weeks in which to decide on a Thing Gift, no, a  _ Wedding _ Gift for his precious Vitya.  He’d been at a loss, for, what do you get for a man who could buy himself almost anything he wanted in the world?  Yuuri had thought of things here and there, but had basically been practicing avoidance of it, figuring that maybe he could just treat Victor to some fancy spa treatment in Hawaii or something.

 

But now, an Idea was beginning to form in his head.   Realization dawned that it should have been staring him the face when they returned to Hasetsu after the Cup of China with the beginnings of a relationship that went well beyond coach and student, when they visited Hasetsu in summertime last year, and this one afterward, and in these last few weeks of planning and of Victor’s and his family’s excitement over everything...the way his family treated him as part of it from almost the moment he arrived as a good-looking-foreigner guest of the onsen.

 

He could hear Victor’s even breaths, could feel them on his neck, for the man had fallen asleep mid-kiss, arms holding on to him as if for dear life, as if he wanted to make sure, even in sleep,  that Yuuri would always Stay Close to him and Never Leave…

 

And Yuuri started to tremble a little, tears started to fall.  Because of the Idea. Because of how happy he was to have finally found what could be the perfect Wedding Gift.

 

Now, how to bring up this Topic of Discussion…

 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he did it, until the Idea had been shared with the people who needed to know, the people who could make it happen.  Victor was asleep, maybe he could slink out of his embrace and…

 

Nope.  

 

As soon as he started to move, Victor held him more tightly, even as he slept, the trap of limbs and of soft sheets making a smooth escape impossible. He closed his eyes; it would have to wait until morning.  But then, wait. Victor always got up obscenely early, that bastard.  _ Always. _  Even if he stayed up nights drinking, he still managed to wake up, hungover, sure, but awake.  Did he even know how to sleep past 8 AM? Shit. Shit. Morning would  _ not  _ work.

 

He glanced over to the clock on the nightstand and, well, shit again.  Why did Victor have such a goddamn old-school alarm clock, some 1980’s analog thing that barely had any of that cheap glow-in-the-dark crap left on the hands of it? He never even needed a goddamn alarm, certainly not one with bells clanging for goodness’ sake?!  Why did he even  _ have  _ such a thing?  At least it should be digital where Yuuri might be able to make out the LED numbers if he squinted enough.  But no. Victor usually was top-of-the-line luxury in everything, but he also had this weird collection of the cheesiest Cheap Kitschy Shit that he also loved.  God. What a man.

 

And, of course, Yuuri’s glasses and phone were on the other side of the Victor limb-tangle-body-wall, so no way was he going to be able to read the Cheap Kitschy Clock to see how late it actually was.   

 

Okay.  

 

Think, Yuuri.  It was barely 9 PM when they...uh...went to bed.  So that should mean…? How long did it take them to, you know?  And then, how long after that did it take Victor to fall asleep?  And then, how long had he been laying here trying to unlock the Mysteries of Victor’s Kitsch Collection?

 

Breathe.  

 

He’d have to figure out a way to send Victor on an errand in the morning, it was the only way to get him out of there, or, maybe he would be able to get his own ass out of bed while Victor was out for his morning run?  Yeah. That was unlikely. Very unlikely; Yuuri didn’t usually see 6 AM unless that was the time he chose to go to bed. The errand was the only way, Yuuri decided, but, what errand? Weren’t things already pretty much done?  Shit! Shouldn’t their Thing, or, their Wedding, have about a million last minutes errands? Hopefully there would be one that Victor could do that didn’t require his mom. Maybe Yuuri had to, he shuddered toward the thought, offer to let him take the  _ van _ ?!

 

Ugh.  Now he’d gotten himself so worked up, excited, on the verge of happy, or, maybe low-key happy, but now he was tense too.   No way was Yuuri going to be able to settle down, the rapid fire thoughts of: did he have enough time left to figure this out?  How could he keep it a surprise and not let Victor know? Wouldn’t Victor have to, uh, sign something? Could he arrange it long distance from Japan?  Would he need a lawyer? Did he  _ have _ a lawyer?  But mainly-

 

Would his parents  _ agree _ ?

 

That’s it.  This Topic of Discussion could not wait until morning, or he’d never sleep for fretting over it all night.  Once again, he tried to slither out of Victor’s seemingly endless arms and legs, finally half succeeding until he was pulled back with a sleepy “Where are you going, malyshhhh…?”

 

“Um, bathroom.”

 

Yeah, real original.  But he was desperate. Surely Victor wouldn’t deprive him of answering the Call of Nature?   _ Right?! _

 

“Hmmm…hurry...back though…”

 

“Okay, Vitya, I’ll be right back,” he replied as the grip finally loosened enough for him to turn and touch the top of Victor’s head with his hand, right where the Fictional Bald Spot existed.  

 

Reflexively, even in sleep, Victor’s hand went up to his head after Yuuri pulled his own hand back…”Um… ‘s-not getting thinner, is it…?” he mumbled; even in semi-sleep Victor was insanely paranoid about it.  

 

“No, no,” Yuuri whispered, leaving a kiss upon his forehead through his smile.  “Everything’s still ok. I’ll be back soon.”

 

Another drowsy hum and Yuuri freed himself from the bed and walked around to get his glasses.  Okay. His phone told him that it was sort of late-ish, but his parents should still be up prepping for the morning or counting the receipts.  

 

Now or never, Yuuri.  Do it.

 

He traversed the corridor and, sure enough, his parents were in the dining room going over the receipts, looking ready to finish up for the night.  “Okaasan, otousan…”

 

“Yuuri,” his dad cajoled with a smile, “Want to have a nightcap with your old man?  Okaasan told me no already, but maybe you can encourage her to let me have one.”

 

“Um...actually…”

 

Shit.  Why was he feeling like he was about to break out into a flop-sweat?  It was just his parents. He could talk to them, jeez. He wasn’t a little kid confessing to tearing his school uniform or anything!   He was an adult. Who wanted, no,  _ needed _ , to have an adult conversation with two other adults.  And the Topic of Discussion was another adult. But, oh no, was he really being too greedy?  Could he really ask them this? This was huge.  _ Huge! _  But, what else could he do?  Before he realized it, he was wringing his hands, and only sheer will was keeping him from pacing, and, God, what if they-

 

“Yuuri?  Is everything ok?”

 

Mom.   She was already on her feet and coming his way.  No. This was not how this was supposed to go. 

 

Get. It. Together.

 

Breathe.

 

This was for Victor.

 

Vitya.

 

_ His _ .  Vitya.

 

“Everything’s fine, okaasan, I...just need to talk to you.  To both of you.”

 

His parents looked at one another and his mom returned to the cushion she had been sitting on before.  Okay. He can do this.

 

“What’s the matter, Yuuri?”  Hiroko asked quietly, and suddenly Yuuri became hyper-aware of his surroundings, the whir of the fan in the corner of the dining room, the sound of the few papers it managed to lift with gentle tugs from its breeze, the ticking of that ridiculous clock by the kitchen window, the drip of the faucet in the dishwell, the feel of the floor underneath his feet, and was it hot as fuck in here or what?!  

 

He looked down, and, jeez, he was in a ratty t-shirt and shorts, looking like he just rolled out of the rack, which he had, and his hair was probably all mussed up from the pillow and, God!  He shouldn’t be asking something like this dressed this way, but, it was late, and his parents looked tired, and here he was making them wait!

 

No.

 

Stop. 

 

This was for Vitya.

 

_ You need to take care of him. _

 

His mother’s words recalled in memory gave him a new resolve, and he managed to pry his feet from the floor and he sat down in front of his parents.  The seiza got their attention. Okay. He could do this.

 

“Yuuri?”

 

He took a deep breath.  Now or never.

 

“Okaasan, Otousan, um...I...there is a, sort of,  Topic of Discussion I’d like to speak with you about…”

 

Stop.  Stammering.

 

“Okay,”  that was Dad, and he could sort of hear his mother shifting on the cushion.  He had their attention, and there was so much he wanted to say, about how he knew he was being greedy, and, if he could do it himself, he would, but he couldn’t so-

 

“I love Victor!” he blurted out.

 

Oh God. He didn’t intend to start with that, did he even plan to say it so overtly at all?!   _ Why was he like this?! _

 

He heard a little giggle from his mother and he saw that she reached for his father’s hand and squeezed.  “We know you do, Yuuri,” she said softly. “Please, go on.”

 

Okay.  Okay. Obviously they knew that.  They knew a lot of things that Yuuri didn’t want to think about them knowing, but, okay.

 

“And...I...he...he loves it here.  Loves both of you. Loves...me. I don’t think...he has…”

 

His parents shared another look, but they patiently waited for him to finish.

 

“What I’m trying to say is...I want him as part of my family.  Our family.”

 

Otousan cleared his throat.  “Hmm. Won’t we accomplish that in a couple of weeks with our big celebration?”

 

Do it, Yuuri.  Ask.  _ Ask! _

 

“I..yes, but...at the end of the day, it’s just a party.  I...want more than that. I know I’m being greedy, and I just couldn’t think of what else to do, but I want to take care of him for the rest of my life, and I want him to have a real family...so, Okaasan, Otousan, will you please…”

 

His heart felt like it was about to burst through his chest, he knew he was sweating, he knew he was shaking, but he had to get this out.   _ Had. To.  _

 

“Will you please adopt Victor into our family?”

 

There.  He said it.

 

He couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to see their reaction, not that he thought they wouldn’t let him down gently, but God, he felt so naked in this moment, baring his soul, outright saying that he was in love with that good-looking-foreigner, even though they knew, it wasn’t like he really hid the nature of their relationship, and Victor was always touchy-feely too, not really caring either, but  _ still, _ and they weren’t saying anything, and  _ why weren’t they saying anything?! _ , were they angry? Were they sad that he really wasn’t ever going to find a nice Japanese girl to make them grandchildren?  He could hear the fan whirring, and the papers fluttering, and he could feel the droplet of sweat falling from his temple, falling, falling-

 

“Go get it, Anata,” Okaasan said quietly.

 

Get it?  Get what? 

 

He heard his father stand up and leave the room; it sounded like he was going to their bedroom.

 

“Just wait a moment, Yuuri, okay?  Otousan will be right back and we will have an answer for you.”

 

Oh God.  That fast?!  That could only be a “no”.  Did Dad leave to go take a shot of some liquor or something to prepare himself?  Yuuri was definitely planning to have them consider it over time; he hoped that they would consider quickly, but was also prepared for the fact that they might need more time, and maybe it wouldn’t happen until months later, and that would still be okay, more than okay, but this?  Was this the No that would be Heard Around The World?

 

Was he really too Selfish after all?

 

At that moment he chose to look up and he met his mother’s gaze, full of warmth and fondness, a small smile, and a fresh tissue in her hands to dab her eyes.  What was going on?

 

“Okaasan?”

 

“Hurry up, Anata,” she called softly, “We can’t keep Yuuri waiting like this.”

 

In walked his father carrying a manila envelope that seemed to be decently thick.  He placed it on the table. “Open it, Yuuri,” he gently directed.

 

“Eh?”

 

His parents nodded and, with trembling hands, he undid the clasp and slid out the paperwork.

 

Adoption paperwork.  

 

That was almost completely filled out already.

 

Oh, God.  

 

The tears started falling and he just held the papers in his hands, held them to his chest.  “Otousan?”

 

His parents held hands again and had another silent exchange, the kind one has with someone who is their Forever, the kind that he was starting to have sometimes with Victor, and he was so overwhelmed, and so happy, and so surprised, and grateful, and-

 

“We were thinking that you might ask this someday, so we sort of got things started,” his mother quietly explained, “we love Vicchan too, Yuuri….we love both of you as our sons, and, he’s been a part of our family since long before he came here, right?”

 

He was crying like a literal baby now, but he didn’t care as he sobbed out his thank yous and I love yous and more thank yous and-

 

“Now, there are some things we need that we didn’t have,”  his father said, “I don’t know how easy it will be for you to get them without Victor knowing, but perhaps you could try.”

 

He sniffed and took the tissue proffered by his mother.  “H-how did you know I wanted to keep it a surprise?”

 

His mother chuckled a little.  “Victor Nikiforov loves Surprises, doesn’t he?  Haven’t you been telling us that since you were twelve?”

 

So they really did pay attention to everything after all.  

 

“A-are you sure about this?  Otousan?”

 

“Go stay up all night reading the paperwork, Yuuri.  You’ll figure out how to make it happen. We know you will.”


	3. Topic of Discussion: Forever

The next several days went by in a role reversal of sorts, with Yuuri sending email after email, receiving and sending fax after fax, because, apparently, it was still the 90s and everything he had to send back and forth to Russia had to be  _ faxed?! _ , and there were calls to the Japanese consulate in St. Petersburg, and more calls, and more emails; how Victor had kept up this pace for months while planning the Thing, or the Wedding, Yuuri would never know.

 

Keeping this Topic of Discussion  a surprise from Victor was also a challenge, since the wedding planners, yes,  _ all three of them! _ , had arrived and were starting to prepare the onsen for the Big Event, and Victor had basically found himself shooed away whenever he started to get too Bridezilla for their tastes, and then he would want to spend time at the beach or at the rink together-

 

It was hard to make phone calls during business hours in St. Petersburg with all of that going on.

 

However, Yuuri had found a very strong ally in Russia; he still couldn’t believe that it happened, but it did.  It took him all of a morning to gear up the nerve to make the call, but finally he pressed the number and reached the other person who called his lover Vitya:  Yakov.

 

“Hello, Coach Yakov, it is Katsuki.  I hope, uh, you are doing well,” was how the conversation started, and Yuuri was sweating literal bullets in Nishigori’s office at the rink, fearing for having this conversation at home where Victor might overhear, and just fearing for having this conversation in general.  

 

The silence went on for a few beats and Yuuri looked down at his phone.  Did the call drop? No. It was still connected. Shit. Shit! Was he disturbing Yakov that badly?

 

“How is that Idiot?” the man finally asked.  “Everything is fine, I hope, da?”

 

Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief.  “Yes, everything is fine, Sir, but, I-need your help with something, and I’m trying to keep it a surprise from Victor…”

 

“Oh?  Trying to surprise the man who made a career out of surprising people?  This ought to be interesting…”

 

Another exhalation of relief, and Yuuri, somehow, managed to explain about the Idea, and that he needed Victor’s signature on a document to release records, and didn’t know how he was going to do it without him knowing, and did Yakov maybe have the answers to some of these questions on the paperwork?  And, and-

 

Silence on the other end of the phone again, and again, Yuuri checked to see if the call had dropped.  Then, the retired coach spoke once more: “I have Vitya’s entire life locked in a safe in my home,” he said quietly, then paused.  “I have everything they need…”

 

“Coach…”

 

Yuuri heard a sigh on the other end of the line.  “Katsuki Yuuri, I’m sure you know by now that Vitya is a capricious, selfish, foolish,  _ brat _ of a man who doesn’t listen to anyone.  He might make you lose your hair someday.”

 

Yuuri dared to chuckle a little in response.  All of those things were definitely true.

 

“But,”  the Coach continued, “underneath all that...Vitya…,”  the man cleared his throat, “he...needs someone to look after him. And, he does seem to listen to you more than to anyone else... He does not do well sometimes when left to his own devices.”

 

“I-I understand.”

 

More silence.  Then, “This is an unusual custom.  But, perhaps, this is what Vitya needs, or has always needed.  Perhaps I should have tried to do something like this for him myself years ago…”

 

It was all Yuuri could do to keep his attention on the call and not to let his mind spiral into all of the imagined experiences Victor may or may not have had before he became Victor Nikiforov, Living Legend.  No. That had to wait. But-

 

“I think you were exactly what Victor needed, Coach.  I know Vitya thinks that too…”

 

A little choking sound, then another gruff clearing of the man’s throat.    “All right. I will help you; and I think I know a few people who can push it through quickly; I assume you want to surprise him with this before the...Thing I will be attending, da?”

 

“Yes, if possible…”

 

“Very well.  Send me the paperwork; I’ll get him to sign what he needs to sign; that Idiot is so trusting he won’t even read it if I just tell him I need it.  Let that be a lesson to you, Katsuki Yuuri: do not let him sign  _ anything _ until  _ you _ or your  _ attorney _ reads it first!   _ Understand?! _ ”

 

“Y-yes….”  

 

He wondered what the source of _ that  _ warning was.  If Yakov was saying it, Yuuri knew he had to take it seriously.  

 

“He’s your problem now.  I’m getting to old for this.  Do you hear me?! Your.  _ Problem _ , Katsuki Yuuri of Japan!”

 

What he heard was:  “Please take care of him.”

 

And Yuuri would.

 

“Thank you, Coach, thank you so much…”

 

And, Yakov did get Victor to blindly sign the release, and Yakov did, apparently, know a few people, and before Yuuri knew it, everything was arranged, the appointment at the Family Registry office was set, and he had asked and arranged for Yakov and Lilia to arrive earlier than planned as well:  Yuuri wanted them to be there for Victor, if they could, and, astonishingly, both of them agreed to the slight change in their travel plans.

 

He and his father picked up the pair at the airport when they arrived late in the evening, two days before the other guests would arrive, and four days before the Wedding.  Yuuri made sure that they were settled in comfortably at the onsen; he had been a little concerned that the accommodation might not be suited for Madame, but, she was gracious, as always, and she and Yakov both would stay until the original reservations that Victor had booked for them at a nearby hotel were ready.  Sometimes Victor’s “early to bed, early to rise” habit was convenient, for his lover was sound asleep when they had returned and was none the wiser to them even being there.

 

When Yuuri climbed into bed that night after taking Makkachin for one last trip outside, the arms and legs immediately encircled him, and the tip of Victor’s nose nuzzled the back of his neck.  “Where were you…,” he mumbled, “I missed you…”

 

“Oh, just helping Dad with a couple of guests.”

 

“Mmkay…”

 

Everything was Set.  There was nothing more he could do, and, amazingly, he fell asleep quickly instead of being kept awake all night with nerves like he thought he might.  

 

When Yuuri awoke to the alarm on his phone, Victor was just stepping into their room from his shower.  “Wow~~! Someone’s up early today!” he greeted cheerfully, and before Yuuri could say “good morning” or roll his eyes toward the greeting, Victor launched himself back into the bed, squishing him and kissing little pecks all over his face and mashing his cheek against his cheek.

 

_ “Vitya!” _

 

“Yuu~~~ri!  You should see the garden; it’s coming along beautifully!  Everything looks amazing~~!”

 

Yes.  Yes, everything looked Amazing, and everything was beautiful, but nothing was more beautiful than Victor’s heart-shaped smile and sparkling eyes kissed by the morning summer sun beaming through the window as he laid about a thousand kisses upon him in return.  He was so, so very excited and happy; Yuuri was finally starting to buy into it, and Victor’s joy was like a contagion that seemed to permeate the inn. Even the other guests were very interested to see the progress of the beautiful setting coming alive in the back garden until the last non-Wedding guest checked out the afternoon before and the inn was closed for the Private Event.

 

“I know, Vitya.  I’m very happy.”

 

That small statement earned him another hug, and then Victor asked, “Where are Hiroko-san and Toshiya-san this morning?  Mari-neesan told me they went out, but she wouldn’t say to where. I hope they didn’t need my help with anything,” Victor mused.

 

Yuuri felt a warmth start to grow within his chest, and that hum of adrenaline started to reverberate throughout his body, not unlike stepping out onto the ice for competition; he had to will himself to stay calm and to appear neither overly excited nor to be overly vague.  It wasn’t easy when Victor took such care to be thinking of his parents and how he could help them; he wanted to tell him right then, and right there, but that would, of course, ruin the Surprise he had gone to such great lengths to create for the man he loved.

 

Soon, Yuuri hoped, Victor would see that not only did he love him, but his parents and Yakov and Lilia loved him too…

 

“I’m not sure,” he answered noncommittally, and the vague statement seemed to satisfy Victor well enough.

 

“Okay,” the elder returned, sitting up in the bed.  “Since you’re up early, do you want to go to breakfast somewhere?  We could try that little crepe stand by the beach and take Makkachin for a walk and-”

 

“Actually, Vitya,”  Yuuri began, but he unintentionally trailed off.  His heart was now beating wildly in his chest and sleep was fully forgotten because today was The Day, and Everything was Ready, and, dear God, he hoped that Victor would be happy with this, and he hoped that nothing would backfire, and he hoped that-

 

No.

 

Stop.

 

“Actually, Vitya,” he began again, “we, uh, sort of have an appointment this morning.”

 

Victor tilted his head to one side and his index finger went to his lips; Yuuri knew that expression.  “We do? I don’t remember having anything booked today. Did I forget something?” he asked playfully, reaching for his now-almost-unusable day planner and trying to open it to see if he had penciled something in that he forgot.  

 

“No, um, it’s an appointment I made for us.”

 

Victor looked up from the tattered remains of his planner, a few pieces of whatever spilling haphazardly onto the mattress that he didn’t bother to reclaim to the book.  “Really? Are we getting pedicures? I already have a salon visit set up for before the Wedding, but I can cancel it and let’s do yours instead!”

 

“No,” he said, almost too forcefully, “I mean, no, Vitya.  Just...go with it today, okay? It’s a surprise.”

 

“Okay! I love that kind of thing, Yuu~~ri!”

 

Good.  Let him think it was a spa lunch or something.  Or Shopping. 

 

Victor gathered up the strewn about papers and stuffed them back into his planner, securing it once again with the rubber band made for holding leeks.  He rose and headed to the closet to select some clothes. 

 

Oh.   _ Oh! _

 

“Ah, Vitya?”

 

“Yes, malysh?”  he replied as he chose a deceptively plain looking shirt and a pair of jeans, which, Yuuri loved those jeans, and God, he knew Victor knew it, and was he intentionally playing with him just because he got up early for once, and was he planning to just drive him crazy with want all day?!  No. The Plan. 

 

Remember, today is The Day.

 

“Would you mind, um, wearing a suit today?” he asked quietly, reflexively twiddling his thumbs until he reached for his phone to stop the nervous habit.

 

Victor paused and eyed him curiously.  “A suit?” he asked quietly.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And, malysh, will you also be wearing a suit?”

 

“Um...yes.”

 

Victor smiled and returned the t-shirt and the sexy-jeans back into the closet and pulled out a garment bag instead.  “Is the gray one okay?”

 

“Of course it is.”  Yuuri felt his cheeks burn a little as he studied his Instagram.  Phichit had sort of a countdown thing going on it where he was tagging them every day along with most of their invited guests, and advertising that he would be posting plenty of clips of a Big Event in the Skating Family after it occurred, keeping very tight-lipped on location and times if not the date.  It was a sort of guessing game about what the Event might be and where, and he invited commenters to tag the skater or skaters they thought would be part of the Event. By the amount of mentions he and Victor were getting, it did seem like most of the commenters were on the right track. Talk about basically free publicity.  Yuuri still hadn’t quite decided if that was a Good Thing or not, but, at this point, Yuuri was beginning to feel his own excitement wash over him in earnest, and, for him, it all began Today.

 

No, not just for him.

 

For  _ Them _ .

 

“What time will we be leaving?”  Victor asked casually, and Yuuri probably knew the reason for the question.  It was a tad warm today, and, if  _ he  _ thought it was, Victor probably thought it was too warm to wear a suit.  

 

He glanced at the clock on his phone.  “I have a taxi ordered for an hour from now.”

 

“Okay.  I’ll dress right before we leave; I don’t want to get sweaty and gross in the meantime,” he commented.  Yeah, as if.

 

Yuuri nodded and made quick work of bathing while Victor messed with his hair in the bedroom; he noticed that he was using some new product which was supposed to combat humidity because he found that his fine hair would “do strange things” in the Hasetsu summertime weather.  For a casual day he just worked it in and then mostly gave up, but, obviously, now that a Suit was involved, Victor was spending even more time on his hair than he usually would. To Yuuri he looked flawless even with errant flyaways, but, now that the Suit had been invoked, Victor would accept nothing less than his own estimation of Perfection.

 

For his part, Yuuri also took more time than usual dressing into his own suit, a navy blue affair with a cream-colored shirt that Victor had picked out for him to replace the one the man tried on more than a few occasions to burn.  He selected a tie, also blue, but with an almost abstract cream-colored floral design that he had first thought was way too flashy for his taste but, every time he wore it, he was always complimented on it. Of course, Victor had chosen it.  His old blue tie Victor  _ actually did _ burn, and it really had pissed him off, and it was one of the first real fights they had, and, of course it was stupid, but for whatever reason, Yuuri was fixated on it and he got way more pissed off than he should have been.  But the next day Yuuri had discovered about fifteen new ties in his drawer, the one he would wear today included, which Victor bought to replace the one he tossed into the incinerator.

 

Nothing says “I’m sorry” like a drawer full of designer ties hand-selected by Victor Nikiforov.  Yuuri forgave him. Obviously. And then a little while afterward, Yuuri asked Victor to forgive  _ him _ for being such an asshole over a stupid piece of fabric he’d gotten at a Macy’s Clearance Rack over five years earlier at a mall in suburban Detroit.

 

Before Yuuri knew it, he was dressed, hair done and slightly pushed back and away from his forehead with a little gel, and he turned around to find his Vitya putting on his gray suit with a crisp shirt in a just-barely-there hint of lavender, and a smart gray and lavender striped tie with a matching pocket square that he was placing “just so” in the jacket he had yet to put on.

 

God, this man was gorgeous from the top of his silver-haired head to his sparkling blue eyes that flecked green ever so fleetingly, to the Cartier watch on his wrist, to a tie clip and matching cufflinks that had had an amethyst set in each piece, and, of course, a couple of diamonds here and there for good measure too.  He really was going all out today; and Yuuri was so enamored that he just kept on staring as Victor finished dressing and checking himself in the mirror a few more times, as if he expected some result other than Perfect might appear. 

 

“Vitya…”

 

“Hmm?”  the named returned over his shoulder, satisfied with his ensemble after he pulled on the jacket and grabbed one of his million pair of Prada shoes to carry with him to the genkan.  

 

“You’re gorgeous.”

 

Fact.  

 

Victor beamed and came over to him and put his hands on his upper arms and chest to smooth his suit, smiling with adoration the whole time.  “So are you, malysh,” he replied in a whisper, leaning in for a light kiss which Yuuri returned until his phone buzzed to alert him that the taxi had arrived.  He pulled back and smiled. This was It. “Time to go, Vitya.”

 

Once settled into the taxi and on their way, Victor made a couple of half-hearted attempts to guess what they were doing and where they were going, even suggesting the outlandish idea that they were going to a petting zoo to get  _ spit on by a llama?! _ , but Yuuri vetoed him with a firm “This Topic of Discussion is off limits until we get to where we are going,” accompanied by the ever so subtle brush of his hand as it rested upon the middle seat between them.   That touch to his fingers, to his  _ ring _ , quieted Victor into a soft smile as he looked out the window toward the passing scenery; the ring Yuuri gave to him in that Church in Barcelona was probably the most inexpensive accessory Victor owned, but he wore it without fail and had done so since it was given, since he had returned the gesture with his gentle direction to show him the skating that he liked best.  Yuuri had meant it to be a good luck charm, but, who was he kidding? He saw the card in the display case. He knew what they were. 

 

He just wasn’t at a place where he could acknowledge that, and the “good-luck charm” thing was his mental safety net for being able to give Victor something to remember him by, something that would endure well past what Yuuri presumed would be the limit of their time together as Coach and Student, and past those nights spent together sharing a bed as lovers between China and Spain, something that maybe Victor could look upon every once in a while and remember him, long after the Grand Prix Final that year was nothing more than an entry of final standings on the ISU website.  

 

He didn’t expect that Victor would tell their  _ friends _ and his  _ sister _ and  _ Minako-sensei _ at dinner that it was an  _ engagement _ ring.  Yuuri had been so flustered, and then to have the video and photographic proof of his antics at the prior year’s banquet disclosed too…

 

Victor had a way of always making  _ so much _ out of  _ everything _ .

 

Yuuri had been sure that he was just playing around, just joking to get exactly the reaction he got, but, later that evening when they were alone and getting ready for bed, Victor had quietly asked him again if he truly had forgotten the night they danced together in Sochi.  When Yuuri affirmed it with another apology, and another explanation that he was a Kyushu boy, and how he tended to be just like his father by going off the rails with a little, or a lot, of alcoholic help, Victor only smiled. “You’re always surprising me, Yuuri. Don’t ever stop.”

 

This, from the man who was the King of surprising people.

 

Who had surprised him from that tiny and grainy television screen at the rink, to see another boy that could be so beautiful on the ice, who looked more like an Angel than another boy, who skated like a heavenly dream, who had hair prettier than Yuuko’s, the prettiest girl he knew, who grew into the gorgeous man he was today as Yuuri watched him through the years of competitions on TV, and, eventually, in person on a few occasions; Victor Nikiforov had always been his Inspiration, his Standard.  His Idol.

 

And what was the biggest surprise of all was that his Vitya was so much more than all the changeable, mutable, fluid personas of his programs throughout the years, he was so much more than the quirky, eccentric persona he played up for the masses who couldn’t get enough of consuming it.  He was so much more than that, and, surprisingly, he was so much less than that too. 

 

Victor was just Victor, and that was all Yuuri ever needed.

 

But, Victor needed more.  That’s what This Day was about, that was what the Thing had been about, that was what the Wedding had been about; it was about what Victor needed, and Yuuri finally realized that he was the only one who could complete whatever was left incomplete inside, to fill that empty space with as much love as he could give to a man who might have a heart made of glass even more fragile than his own.  Victor had so much going for him in his miraculous life, but, the more time Yuuri spent with him getting to know him, to love him, to try and understand all the unsaid things, Victor was like a puzzle that was missing its final piece, the piece that needed to be gently pressed into place right over his heart to complete the picture and hold it together so that it would never fall apart. 

 

Yuuri understood that now; his mother had been correct.  Victor gave him so much, a new way of skating, the confidence to surprise the audience and the judges, a new way of Living, a new way of Loving.  

 

Yuuri needed to give him something too.  This Gift. 

 

Himself.

 

The Family Registry office was in a typical building on a typical street.  There were no friends from all over the world, no reporters, no photographers, no Thing Cakes, no crowds at all.  Just a simple sign on the door that Victor couldn’t read, and two sets of adults inside who wanted to give Victor a Family to call his own.

 

Perfect.

 

“We’re here, Vitya,” he said softly.

 

“Okay,” came the quiet reply, accompanied with a quick check in his phone’s camera to make sure he looked on point as he stepped out of the car while Yuuri paid the cab fare.  With that chore done, Yuuri took in a Victor who was looking around with a questioning gaze; obviously this was not a petting zoo, nor was it a Champagne brunch at an exclusive restaurant. “Where are we, Yuu~~ri?” he asked, his eyes shimmering with the anticipation of what the Surprise might be and, obviously, he was completely, utterly, and fantastically  _ Stumped _ .

 

Good.

 

“Come on inside before your hair decides to do any strange things,” he replied, earning himself a little chuckle from his partner, and Yuuri reached for the handle of the doorway to hold it open for him.   The cool shift of conditioned air from inside met the warmth of the summer day outside as they entered the foyer of the office building; it washed over them, refreshing them, welcoming them in a similar way as would the smell of ice greet them at rinks all across the world, and as had the chilly cathedral in Spain welcomed them into its sanctuary in December.

 

This was not a fancy Church, it was not a rink reserved for two, where an ice dance routine was born out of trust, and love, and want, and the need and pledge to Stay Close and Never Leave, to be broadcasted to the world.  

 

But it would do for Their Family.

 

Yuuri read the building directory, and he could see that Victor had given up trying to figure out what they were doing there, had purposely and patiently and quietly waited for Yuuri to lead him to the elevator, had not tried to pull any details out of him anymore, and simply  _ trusted _ that Yuuri would not lead him anywhere that he didn’t want to go.

 

God, Yuuri hoped that he would trust him, love him, and accept what he and his parents had wanted to do...Forever.

 

As the floors ticked by on the elevator, Yuuri kept breathing.  Inhale. Exhale. His body was humming and he knew Victor could tell, but, there was no concern in his eyes when Yuuri glanced toward him, prepared to assure that he was okay.

 

It must have been something in his own expression, because Victor just smiled and gently squeezed the tips of his fingers once before the elevator finally came to rest.

 

Another door with another sign Victor couldn’t read.

 

Yuuri was about to reach for the handle, but a last minute pang of nerves took him by surprise and his arm ended up being awkwardly suspended in midair.  Oh no. No. Not  _ now! _  Not when he was about to-

 

“Please, whatever Surprise this is, whatever you have planned for today,” Victor whispered, “just show me.   Show me the Yuuri that You like best.”

 

That’s right.  That’s all Victor ever wanted from him, and all Yuuri wanted was for Victor to be Victor.

 

Yuuri put his sweaty palm on the cool metal of the door handle, tilted the lever, and opened the door, turning to usher Victor in ahead.  The pair walked down a corridor to a waiting lobby and that was when Victor stopped short.

 

Four people rose from their chairs to greet them, and Yuuri stepped beside Victor and smiled toward the absolute shock upon his face.  “Y-yakov? Lilia?” he breathed, “What are you doing here?” he whispered, looking back and forth between them and Yuuri, and then, “Hiroko-san and Toshiya-san…?  Yuu~~ri, is this an  _ intervention _ ?” he asked with a silly and slightly nervous little laugh.  He was well and truly shocked, but his eyes were sparkling, full of fondness mixed in with the disbelief.

 

“No, Vitya, no; it’s not an intervention,”  Yuuri replied, stifling a small laugh. 

 

“Hmpf.  Maybe it  _ should _ be,” Yakov grumped quietly,  “Is this any way to greet us Vitya?”   Greet Lilia and me properly, you Foolish Boy.”

 

Still stunned and definitely unsure as to what was going on, Victor shot a glance to Yuuri again before managing to make a few paces toward Lilia,  “Hello, Lilia, thank you for coming, and, welcome,” he said before kissing Madame on each cheek.

 

“Hello, Victor.  You are looking quite well these days,”  Madame returned with a curt nod and, maybe, if Yuuri squinted, he thought he almost saw a flash of fondness and an almost-smile fleetingly grace her lips.  

 

“As are you, Lilia.  I’m so glad you could come early for...Yuuri’s Surprise.”

 

Next, Yakov received his greeting of kisses and then the longtime Coach pulled him into a hug.  “Vitya, make sure you pay attention today, da?”

 

There was another few words spoken in Russian between them that Yuuri couldn’t quite catch, but, seconds later, Victor was greeting his parents with a bow until Yuuri’s mother pulled him into a hug.  “Hello, Vicchan, we are...eto, very happy you here with us.”

 

Victor rose from the hug and turned to Yuuri again.  “Yuuri, what is this about?”

 

This is It.  It happens Now.

 

“Victor, um, I asked Madame and Yakov to come a few days early because I wanted them to be here for this,” he began, then, turning to the Coach and Lilia,   “Thank you both again for being here for Victor, my parents wanted me to tell you that we are very humbled and happy that you are here.”

 

The pair that had been with Victor for most of his life nodded, and Yakov extended a hand to his father who took it heartily.  Good. 

 

He turned to Victor again, his beautiful albeit still-befuddled Vitya.  “Victor..., Vitya,” Yuuri took a deep breath. “I know we can’t have a marriage here.  But, there is something we can do that is just as Official. It might seem strange, but, really, this is done quite regularly for various reasons, and, it is a way for us to have something that, at least while we’re here in Japan, recognizes that you and I are part of the same...Family.”

 

“I...don’t understand…”

 

“We just need to wait a few minutes more.”

 

Their appointed time with the Clerk was now a scant five minutes away, and then his father and Victor would be called.  He guided Victor to sit in one of the plush sofas, and his parents and Lilia and Yakov also took their seats once more. 

 

The room was quiet, so quiet that Yuuri imagined that he could hear the pounding of Victor’s heartbeat.  He thought he could hear his mother telling herself not to cry, hoping that her Vicchan would accept this, he could feel the small item in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, a barely-there presence coming through the fabric of the pocket and lightly pressing against his own chest, he could sense Yakov and Lilia; Lilia who wanted Victor to remain a thing of beauty, hoping for his happiness, and Yakov maybe hoping his Vitya wouldn’t screw this up today, but loving him even if he did.  From the purposely neutral decor in the room, to the closed door at the end of the waiting area which would be opened if Victor accepted so that he and his dad could sign the papers, all of it was part of the Story that Yuuri wanted to create for the man who told him such beautiful stories on the ice for so many years. For so many years, Victor’s skating Stories were like Magic, inspiring him through all the time that Yuuri watched him, and, yes,  _ Loved _ him from afar…

 

“Yuuri?”

 

Three minutes.

 

“Just a few more minutes, Vitya.  Can you wait with me?”

 

The man nodded, sinking a bit tentatively into his seat until the firm hand of Yakov on his shoulder settled him into a more relaxed repose.  This, from the man who called him Idiot almost as much as he called him Vitya, was familiar to his lover, a rock, stability, an existence that could be relied upon, and upon whom Victor had  thusly relied for the vast majority of the Story that was Victor’s life. 

 

Yuuri wanted to create this New Story, where  _ he _ was now the one to place the hand upon Victor’s shoulder, to offer him a Home to come back to permanently and forever more, one built with gestures and touches and words, and maybe even with silence.  

 

A Story where Vitya could always have a home, the Home only Yuuri could provide.

 

Two minutes.

 

All of Victor’s skating stories started with a Once Upon a Time, luring in the audience, captivating them, surprising them, casting a Spell that took them out of their seats at the rink and into the beauty of Victor’s creativity and the heart and strength of his athleticism.  There were times when Yuuri wondered if he was even real, or if he was even human at all with his gorgeous costuming and long, flowing hair; he had spent many an afternoon daydreaming while looking out of windows of high school classrooms, wondering how in the world someone could end up with silver hair and such a beautiful face, and yet, still be a boy, or, by that time, a man.   

 

And then the season would be over, and Yuuri was relegated to articles, posters, internet sites, and gossip until the season would start again, and maybe, he would think, just maybe, he would be good enough to stand by Victor Nikiforov on the same playing field.  And it didn’t happen, it kept  _ not happening _ , and Yuuri was about to give it all up when it seemed like Sochi would truly be the end of Yuuri’s tiny bit-part in the Story that was the life of Russia’s Living Legend.

 

But Victor took all of that fear and lack of confidence away.  Victor let him shine on his own merits. Victor guided him on the ice so Yuuri could skate the skating he liked best.

 

And Victor, off the ice, was so much more than that magical boy who captivated him; in a lot of ways, he was everything Yuuri wasn’t, and yet, he was exactly what Yuuri needed.  

 

Yuuri wanted to be exactly what Victor needed too.

 

He wanted to give him a Story of his own making, a Story that would endure for much longer than Victor’s enchanting skating programs, that would grow and become Theirs, now that the competitive part of their careers was over. Victor may have began it unknowingly from the television at the Ice Castle with his Once Upon a Time, but Yuuri wanted to be the one who would give him his Happily Ever After.

 

One minute.  

 

Yuuri reached for Victor’s right hand, thumbing the ring lightly.  “Victor, that door is about to be opened, and someone will call for you and for my father.”

 

Victor looked at him then, searching for meaning, searching for the Surprise to be revealed.

 

The door opened.

 

“Katsuki Toshiya-san and Nikiforov Victor-san, please?”

 

Everyone stood, and Yuuri felt the tender pressure of his mother’s hand on the small of his back.  “Tell him now, Yuuri.”

 

Now, it was time to see if Happily Ever After could truly begin.

 

He took a cleansing breath and bowed.  “Victor Nikiforov, on behalf of my mother, Katsuki Hiroko, and my father, Katsuki Toshiya, we would like to formally adopt you into the Katsuki family.  My Father wishes for you to accept this, and to become his...son. So, please accept this, Victor. Please become a part of this Family as my parents’ Son.”

 

Yuuri rose and looked at his Vitya; he was wide-eyed and his mouth was opened a little, his hand reflexively going up to it, and the moisture was already gathering at the edges of those impossibly blue eyes.  “Y-yuuri…I…”

 

Yuuri felt a warmth spread through his chest as the tears gathered upon the silver eyelashes and started to fall, glancing Victor’s cheeks and the fingertips of the hand that was still over his mouth in surprise.  “Vitya, please don’t cry,” he said quietly, although he was not really surprised that it was happening, not surprised that he could see Victor’s shoulders begin to tremble, not surprised to see that he was desperately trying to hold it back but the tears kept falling anyway.  What _ was _ the surprise was that Yuuri felt calm in the face of those tears this time, comfortable to see his lover overcome, comfortable with finally understanding something about Victor that maybe he should have realized a lot sooner, that there was a piece of Victor’s heart that needed something more than his career or money or that bigger apartment he wanted to get for them, or even more than a lover.

 

Victor needed exactly This.

 

Before he could reach to brush the tears away, Lilia was by Victor’s side, offering a handkerchief that was crisp and white with a filigree of delicate lace around the edges of it.  “Victor Nikiforov, is this the aesthetic you want to have today?” she chided softly as Victor huffed a small laugh and took it gratefully to dab at his eyes.

 

“No...I...just...Yuuri, is this...real?”

 

“Vitya, please go with my father now.  Please become part of us...part of Me.”

 

Yuuri ventured to brush his fingers against Victor’s right hand briefly as the man took a breath and wiped his eyes once more; he motioned to return the handkerchief to Lilia.  “Keep it,” she said simply before abruptly turning back toward Yakov, trying to hide the fact that she was reaching again into her purse for another piece of fine cloth to use surreptitiously for herself, a twin to the one given to his Vitya.  For his part, Yakov whispered something into her ear in Russian, and placed a hand on her shoulder for a few seconds and squeezed. No matter that the former spouses were just that, Yuuri could see that they still cared for each other, and that they both cared dearly for Victor.

 

And Victor had taken another breath, had settled his shoulders, and stood to his full height once more.  “Yuuri, this is the biggest Surprise...how did you…?” he began softly, but he stopped the question with a shake of his head and a slight clearing of his throat.   “Please tell Toshiya-san how grateful I am...I…”

 

“Just say ‘yes’, Vitya.  That is all they need to hear.”

 

And so Victor did, and Yuuri saw the warm looks on his parents’ faces, and he knew that this was Right, and this was Now, and, after a few strokes of pen, it would be Real, something they could hold in their hands, a symbol that was as tangible as their rings, a bond that made them a family on paper upon which Victor would probably place a value higher than any of his many gold medals. 

 

The clerk made a motion to usher Victor and his father into the next room and Victor gained his footing and took a couple of steps toward the door before he stopped and turned around.  “Aren’t you coming?” he asked quietly.

 

Yuuri’s heart was beating hard now, and, oh, how he did want to go with him, and how he did want to see Victor sign his name, and then his new name, but-

 

“Vitya, this is between you and my father.  Go on. I’ll be waiting for you here; we all will be waiting right here.”

 

And then he saw it, that fleck of green that danced across Victor’s eyes, that subtle shift of color that Yuuri was starting to understand, starting to realize its meaning, starting to  _ Know. _

 

“But….I want...I need…”

 

There it was; the voice trailed off, and Yuuri’s heart nearly skipped its beat.  Oh, how he wanted and needed to be in that room too, but he couldn’t do this at all without his father, and maybe he could explain it to Victor later, that if their ages were reversed, that if he had thought about this sooner, that maybe if he had planned it better, that-

 

Then, his father’s voice to the clerk:  “May I speak with you a moment?”

 

The two moved off to the far corner of the waiting room and Yuuri could tell that his lover was trying to hear what was said in those hushed voices, looking to him to decipher the conversation that Yuuri could barely hear himself until he thought he heard his father say the word “translate”.  

 

_ Please. _

 

That’s the only thought that Yuuri could formulate inside, the entreaty; he’d do anything, whatever the excuse needed, he would take it if it meant he could watch the moment Victor officially became a Katsuki.

 

As Yuuri looked on he could see a small frown cross the face of the clerk before he glanced around to the group at large before giving his father a curt nod.  A few more hushed words were spoken and then his father smiled. “All set, Yuuri; he has allowed for you to come in as a translator.”

 

He turned to Victor; his expression was hopeful, and Yuuri was relieved too.  “I can come in with you to translate, okay?” he said quietly.

 

The relief on Victor’s face was apparent as soon as the words left his mouth and he straightened his suit jacket a little as they walked into the next room.  The clerk sat behind a desk that was clear but for a stack of papers and two pens. As he motioned for his father and for Victor to sit in the two available chairs, Yuuri stood behind Victor’s shoulder.

 

“Shall we begin?”  the clerk asked gently and his father affirmed by taking up the pen, and Victor did the same.  Although he was doing his best to conceal it, Yuuri could see the barely-there trembling of Victor’s hand as he held the implement and turned the cylinder to expose the point.

 

Yuuri did his part, repeating what the clerk said in softly whispered English as Victor listened and penned the cyrillic “BH” of his initials on the small provided lines marked with tiny post-it arrows, and page after page was initialed, turned, and laid to rest into another neat stack.  With each page, he could hear that Victor was trying to regulate his breathing, and Yuuri did wonder if he should be asking if he was all right. Of course he recognized it; it was one of the many things Victor had taken upon himself to learn in their time together, to help Yuuri through his own panic attacks.  Yuuri didn’t think that Victor was panicking, but, clearly, he was nervous enough, perhaps nervous excitement to Yuuri’s perceptions, and he had fallen into the relaxation technique so automatically that maybe he didn’t even realize that he was doing it.

 

After what seemed like an eternity of pages, there was but one page left, and Yuuri felt his own heartbeat quicken; this was the Moment he had been waiting for, to give Victor this Gift, the moment when they would truly become a Family.  It was all he could do to remain still, to blink away the now-persistent sting that was tickling at his own eyes, for, the acknowledgement of their Love by his parents, the support they had always given to him and then extended to Victor, their willingness to go this far for them, to make this choice to accept the good-looking foreigner as one of their own: it was so profound.  Yuuri could feel himself becoming overwhelmed with happiness tinged with solemnity and deep, deep love for his parents for making this happen, that they would welcome into their lives another Son.

 

That they would welcome Victor as his...Lover.

 

Yuuri took a breath, quickly squeezed away the moisture from his eyes with another blink, and composed himself.  “It’s time for you to sign, Vitya,” he said, “you can use your usual signature here,” he explained, guiding Victor by his index finger to a second space available for longhand.  “But, it is required for you to write your name in Japanese here,” Yuuri continued, pointing to another blank box on the page.

 

Victor turned to face him then, and the flecks of green skittered across the blue of his eyes again and Yuuri dared to put a hand on his shoulder briefly.  “Don’t worry, Vitya. Otousan has it covered,” he reassured his partner and he was rewarded with the most fond of smiles, the one that always took Yuuri’s breath away as though the adoration he saw within these loving gazes had the weight of a physical impact.  God, Yuuri hoped that he could give Victor that type of gaze someday too, to be able to completely shed those tiny kernels of doubt that always liked to clip annoyingly at the edges of thought, telling him that he was too greedy, or that he didn’t deserve Victor, that he wasn’t good enough.  

 

That he would never be able to give as much or show as much love as Victor gave and showed to him.

 

No.  Stop.

 

Not today.

 

Today was for Victor.

 

He turned to his father and nodded, and Toshiya reached into the inside pocket of his own suit jacket and pulled out a small piece of folded paper upon which he and Yuuri had carefully transliterated the letters into Japanese; otousan had insisted that they join their two last names together into one longer one.  “Can you copy your Name, Vitya?” Yuuri whispered, his heart feeling as though it might burst.

 

“I...yes.  I think so.”

 

Toshiya held the piece of paper in both of his hands and turned so Victor could take it from him.  Victor did, putting the pen down and using both of his own hands and bowing a little clumsily while seated, but the fact that he understood the importance of the Gift was conveyed adequately enough.  He stared at the paper for a moment, seeing the English spelling of “Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov” above the hiragana equivalent.

As Yuuri watched, he could hear the hitched breaths he tried to stifle, and then, when Victor looked up toward him again, the tears were forming once more, threatening to spill over.  But also, Yuuri could see in his eyes that the mental gears of his Vitya’s mind were turning, thinking. 

 

Deciding something.

 

Yuuri  knew that look; it was the same look he would have when he was about to make a breakthrough in choreography for a program, the same look he would have when he launched himself into one of his breathtaking jumps or into a flying spin, the same look he had when he desperately wanted Yuuri to listen to him, to truly  _ hear _ him when what he was saying was vitally important.  

 

There was a decision forming there, and Yuuri didn’t know what it was.  For a split-second, he wondered if Victor might not sign, or if he was worried that he would be giving up something, or if-

 

No.

 

He would sign.  But there was something being pieced together in Victor’s mind, and Yuuri was willing to wait for the decision, even if he wondered why it seemed like Victor might be hesitating a little.  Was he really that worried about copying his Name? No, that couldn’t be it. Could it? It would not be allowed for someone to do it for him, so he had to do it himself, and Yuuri wanted for him to do it, no matter how sloppy it might turn out, or if stroke order would be garishly wrong, or that it was an obscenely long and awkward name in hiragana.  He didn’t care. He just wanted Victor to write his Name in Japanese so badly-

 

It was suddenly overwhelming, the desire to watch Victor write his Name in Yuuri’s language, as if by writing it, the second home they had together in Hasetsu would instantly become “another” home, not the silver to St. Petersburg’s gold, but equal in standing in Victor’s Mind and Heart.

 

As Yuuri patiently waited for Victor to speak again, he mused that very few people understood the real Victor Nikiforov.  Many people knew he was very kind to fans, reporters, and generally anyone he met felt drawn to his effervescence, like moths to the proverbial flame.  He shone so brightly, not only as a champion, but as a certified _ hottie,  _ a media darling, fan darling, and general, well,  Darling. 

 

However, there were those, too, who discounted him as a flake, sort of a ditz, forgetful at the most inopportune of times, flippant, flashy, flirty, and, if the tabloids were to be believed, an International Playboy of the near-highest order.  There were always salacious stories from people who claimed to have been to bed with him, or to have witnessed him in bed with others; Yuuri himself was as guilty as anyone else for reading about him for years, wondering about just how much of those supposed antics really happened, and which were simply embellished way beyond their proportion to reality.  Victor rarely gave those stories much attention other than an eye-roll or a cheeky comment about it because he was used to it and had been for a long time, long before they were ever together. Truly, he was all of those things in reality too; the amped-up public persona was part of him, and Yuuri often found himself skating a thin line between smitten and annoyed with it but he still loved him, All of Him, because he knew that there was a whole other side to Victor Nikiforov that almost no one got to see.  

 

That was for him and for a select very few others only.

 

And ever since he put his career on hold to become his coach, Victor had started to quietly demand for retractions from the tabloids, even threatened lawsuits. Yuuri knew that Victor did that for him, so that he would not worry about something read or said or claimed, and he knew thanks to one Yuri Plisetsky that the elder had made some very stern warnings should a tabloid or sponsor ever dare to say anything about one Katsuki Yuuri of Japan, that he would drop the sponsor and sue the publisher in a heartbeat.

 

So far, the sponsors didn’t change, and the tabloids kept a bit more distance whenever they were together; for that, Yuuri was eternally grateful.  He supposed that when you brought home as much hardware as had Victor, at least some reporters thought better of pissing him off.

 

Rarely did any article or person comment upon just how smart a man Victor Nikiforov truly was, though.  Granted, he did not study at a University. He did not attend traditional school for most of his life having been tutored privately until he was able to complete a basic secondary education.  But Yuuri knew that Victor was incredibly bright; he had a talent for languages, and he read voraciously books in all manner of subjects in Russian, French, and English, and he’d recently acquired a nice selection of the Nishigori triplets’ children’s books as he taught himself to read basic hiragana with the help of a chart and a dictionary.  He was very savvy about money, even if he might not appear that way because he was so spendy, but he knew exactly how all of his investments were doing at any given moment, and he knew exactly how to negotiate with sponsors and companies for good endorsement and modeling gigs. He was also an absolute dog lover; if he hadn’t been such a busy man, he probably would have had a pack of poodles instead of just one, and he hated to see any animal in distress, even helping Yurio take care of his cat Potya when she needed to see a vet for an emergency surgery.  Clearly Yurio couldn’t afford to pay for it because most of his money went to support his Grandfather’s medical care, but Victor also respected the younger skater’s pride. He somehow managed to convince the vet to bill Yurio a nominal amount and Victor just took care of the rest without even saying a word or batting even one of his delicate silver-lined eyelids. 

 

And it was that quick, caring mind that was still turning silently, not noticing the growing impatience of the clerk who probably had another appointment to follow theirs, and Yuuri didn’t care.  This was  _ their _ time.  Their Moment.  Their Day.

 

Their Forever.

 

“Toshiya-san...Yuuri...I…,” he whispered, but his voice trailed off, as if he didn’t trust it, as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask was right, or appropriate, or allowed, but there was a desperation in it, one that Yuuri could not ignore.

 

“Tell me, Vitya, what’s wrong?”

 

Victor looked down at the paper that held his Name again.  “I’m Russian,” he said.

 

Yuuri took a breath, and he surprised himself with the gentle huff of laughter that escaped.  “Yes, we did our best with it.”

 

Victor gripped the paper a bit more firmly.  “I...am so grateful for this...and I don’t…”

 

The clerk subtly cleared his throat, and Yuuri offered a quiet apology.  “Vitya, what is it?”

 

Victor continued to study his Name, the words on the tiny piece of paper, the borderland between his past and their future, and Yuuri could see his Lover awash in so many emotions.  These private moments, these that almost no one else sees, are reserved for him, for his Family, and Yuuri thought that it looked as though Victor’s heart was calling out to him, telling him that there was a piece of it still broken and needing for him to mend.

 

“Vitya,” he said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder again,  “what do you...need? Whatever it is, I want to give it to you.”

 

He continued to look at his Name, running a finger over the printed letters and characters before he put the paper down on the desk.  “Yakov,” he whispered. “I need Yakov.”

 

Huh?

 

“He’s right outside.  He’s waiting for you.”

 

Victor turned in his chair and he had such a look in his eyes that it nearly pierced through Yuuri’s own heart with its desperation.  “Please. I need to ask him something. I was going to ask after our…,” he trailed off, then, more firmly, he added: “I need to do it now.”

 

“All right,”  Yuuri managed to eke out, and then conveyed the message.  The clerk seemed unimpressed, but then a quick look to his wristwatch made him relent with a light scolding about how this was very irregular and how they should have planned this out beforehand.  After Yuuri quickly muttered an apology, the clerk rose and went to the door and called for Mr. Feltsman.

 

When the gruff retired-coach entered the room, Yuuri saw Victor’s expression change from the anxious desperation to a look so fond and with so much love for the man; obviously whatever decision Victor had made, he was happy with it.  He nearly jumped out from the chair and pulled the man in for a hug, kissing him on each cheek. “Vitya, what are you doing?” the coach grumbled, “Are you wasting everyone’s time in here with your dramatics again?” 

 

Victor only smiled and returned to sit in his chair.  “Toshiya-san, Yuuri...please tell me how to write Yakovlevich in Japanese.”

 

Yuuri heard a choking sound coming from the direction of Yakov, followed by a hoarsely spoken  “Vitya…”

 

Of course.  

 

Of course this is how it should be, Yuuri thought; he had gotten fairly used to people in St. Petersburg addressing him as “Yuuri Toshiyavich”, but it dawned on him in this moment that he never heard anyone call Victor by anything other than “Victor” or “Mr. Nikiforov” there aside from Yakov who never called him anything but “Vitya” or “Idiot”.   The dreaded prickling started to make itself known in Yuuri’s head, self-reprimanding thoughts about why he never thought to talk to Victor about this, about how he had gotten used to hearing the patronymic in reference to assorted other people and never had he heard anyone address Victor that way. Maybe he was being insensitive without even realizing, and Victor was too kind to say anything to correct him, maybe Victor let it go because it took him so damn long even to be comfortable with calling him “Vitya” outside of their bedroom…

 

Maybe Yuuri should have asked after all before it came to this,  before he and his father had sat down together to wrangle that Russian name into the hiragana characters, maybe he should have thought to wonder when he saw Victor sign endless autographs and even more endless credit card receipts from their endless purchases for the Thing, the Wedding, and maybe Yuuri should have said something, maybe Yuuri should have  _ known _ something-

 

“I’m Russian,”  Victor said again quietly, interrupting Yuuri’s anxious musings.  “How could I sign something this important without a patronymic?”

 

Of course.  Damn it. Why was he so stupid not to think about that?  Yuuri could feel the sweat beading at his temple, his heart rate beginning a rapid ascent into panic until he suddenly felt a cool hand on his, squeezing his fingertips.  

 

Calming him.

 

Meeting him where he was, even when he was on the cusp of dissolving into the messes his thoughts like to make at the worst of times,  Victor had reached back without even looking. Without even saying a word, he _ Knew _ .

 

Victor always knew.

 

“Yuuri, I need you to show me how to write Yakovlevich.  It’s important.”

 

Yuuri squeezed back.  Once again, Victor had helped him to reset his brain, to focus on the important things.  And, for his Vitya, this was incredibly important, something he needed, something that only Yuuri could give.  

 

He heard a rustling from behind as Yakov shifted his feet.  “Vitya, what about your-”

 

“You’ve always been the only Coach for me,”   Victor interrupted softly. “You know you’ve always been so much more.  I should have done this in Russia the day I retired. I just...didn’t know how to ask.”

 

The old coach expelled what, to Yuuri, sounded like one of his long-suffering sighs.  “Since when do you ask my permission for anything…,” the coach began, all traces of sternness gone and replaced with the shaky speech of a man who desperately wanted to keep the dam intact before all of his heart would spill over, and Yuuri knew that this was also Right, that this was also what Victor needed.

 

And, maybe, this was what Yakov needed as well:  a final chapter written and closed, and maybe another book opened; when he and Victor had both retired, the press had called it “The End of an Era”.  Now, Yuuri thought, the odd pair that was Yakov and Victor might just have begun a new era to call their own, one that was clearly long overdue.

 

Then, as if recovering himself to his own satisfaction,  the Coach continued: “Fine. I’ll go along with your stupid flighty ideas this one last time...you Foolish Boy...”

 

And Yuuri saw the tiny pools appear on the hardwood of the desk in front of the man he loved, and he saw the shoulders tremble once more as Victor gently slid the paper with his name and the pen toward the edge of the desk to where Yuuri could lean down and reach them.  “Yuuri, write my full Name for me, please.”

 

He carefully transliterated another cumbersome Russian name, explaining quietly that there were no middle names, but that it could be added to his first name just as Nikiforov had been added to Katsuki before by his father’s insistence.

 

“All done, Vitya.”

 

He heard a little chuckle escape and Victor reached into his pocket once more for Lilia’s handkerchief.  “I wonder if I can make it all fit into this cute, teeny, tiny, itty-bitty little box,” he commented, trying to make his voice light, but Yuuri knew better.  There was an undertone of seriousness there, barely perceptible; probably only he and Yakov could detect it at all, and maybe even Victor himself would try to dismiss it.  But there was no denying that Victor was serious in this moment, perhaps as serious as he was on that night in Barcelona when Yuuri had tried to end this; oh, how long ago that had seemed now, how he had let the insecurity and anxiety cloud from his vision the fact that this man, this Russian, this Thing of Beauty, his former god-like Idol, was truly only a man after all.

 

A man who loved him hundreds of times more than Yuuri would ever think to love himself.

 

Victor exhaled, and straightened his posture, and made his best effort to shake off his tears.  He took up the pen and signed his longhand signature first, signing in both Cyrillic and English in a hand more measured and delicate than the flourish-filled, heart-punctuated autographs he gave for the fans:

Виктор Яковлевич Катсуки-Никифоров

Victor Yakovlevich Katsuki-Nikiforov

 

For the hiragana, Victor carefully wrote each character, as if with each wrongly-ordered stroke of pen, his resolve grew and his confidence grew, and even if the writing was not academically correct, Yuuri could not argue with the results. 

 

He had written his Name beautifully.  It was the most beautiful thing Yuuri had seen on paper, but then, Victor had always been beautiful to him, first on the ice, next as a coach and friend, and, now, as a Lover and Official Family Member, and soon, as his...Husband.

 

And, no, the signature didn’t all quite fit in that teeny, tiny, itty-bitty little box, but Yuuri didn’t care.  That was also Right: Victor was like no other person in the world to Yuuri and no box would ever be big enough to contain all of who he was.    Yuuri hoped that as they grew together, his own heart would grow more to fit all of his Vitya inside.

 

The signatures finished, Yuuri was brought out of his reverie by the clerk asking Victor for his hanko.

 

Yuuri exhaled: his Turn.

 

“What is he asking me, Yuuri?” Victor whispered.

 

Yuuri reached inside his coat pocket and, with a hand steadier than was his heart, he showed Victor his Wedding Gift.  “You’ll need this when signing something Official here in Japan now. We have to register it, because it’s Yours.”

 

He bowed and held the hanko in both of his hands to give it to Victor, “Victor, please take it with all of our Family’s...Love.”

 

And then Yuuri felt the cool hands on his as they took the small stamp tied with a blue ribbon, hands that lingered just a shade longer than needed, the reassurance and Love felt within the tapered fingers that brushed his own.  “Arigatou...gozaimasu,” his Vitya whispered. 

 

He took the hanko and pushed it to the paper activate the self inking stamp inside:  “勝生”

 

The clerk nodded and took the stack of papers from their place in front of where Victor sat, gently explaining that their official copies would be mailed once everything was completely registered, but Yuuri didn’t bother to translate because, as soon as the clerk uttered his last word, Victor was out of his chair and giving him a hasty bow before he turned to Toshiya-san.  “I...Toshiya-san-”

 

“No, Vicchan, it’s Otousan now,” the man said in English.  “Otousan, to you now.”

 

And without care for propriety, Victor pulled Yuuri’s Father, his Father, into one of his fully-encircling hugs, little murmurs spoken for only Otousan’s ears that Yuuri didn’t want to intrude upon, until Otousan gave him a couple of enthusiastic pats on the back.

 

By this time, Yakov had stepped back a little, standing with Yuuri by the doorway to let the new Father and Son be.  “I’m an old man, Katsuki Yuuri,” the Coach whispered into his ear. “I would sometimes worry what would happen to him if I were gone.  Now, I think, I worry a little less.”

 

And in that moment, Victor turned to him with his heart-shaped smile, eyes still misty, and Yuuri wasn’t worried anymore about the Thing, the Wedding, the Official Wedding in Hawaii, or any other Topic of Discussion.

 

For this one amazing Moment, Katsuki Yuuri didn’t worry about anything at all.

 

***

 

Several days later found them at yet another baggage claim, tired, somewhat excited, but mostly tired.   The Hasetsu Wedding, formerly the Thing, was wonderful; their friends were crazy and fun at their Bachelor Party which basically included everyone regardless of whether or not they were a bachelor or even a man.  It was another fun Night to Remember, and the pair of them were sufficiently teased and roasted for an entire night with silly gifts and merriment and with wine and champagne that flowed as freely as water in a stream.  The best part was that Yuuri kept himself  _ mostly _ in check, and he remembered  _ mostly _ every moment.  Victor shed his Bridezilla moniker once and for all, and almost as soon as their pledges to each other were spoken in front of those very same friends and Family members the next afternoon,  both of their phones blew up with congratulatory messages from fans far and wide, and from Phichit’s insane amount of Instagram followers who had been playing along with the “Guess The Big Event” game.

 

Victor had put on a great party indeed, and it was as magical and Fun as was Victor himself.

 

And those friends and Family members saw them off at the airport for their Official Wedding and Honeymoon bonanza, and Yuuri had managed to come up with one more special Surprise for his Vitya, something carefully concealed in his carry-on bag, something he was sure that Victor was not expecting, something he wanted to do after being pretty much ambivalent and annoyed for most of the Wedding plans Victor had worked so hard in order to create their beautiful Family celebration in Hasetsu.  It was something to make up for that, something to show the appreciation his Victor deserved for making it so special, Yuuri’s literal Dream Come True…

 

Something for This Day.

 

Yuuri checked the clock on his phone and the mental alarm bells started ringing as soon as his phone figured out what day and time it was.  “Oh shit, if we wait any longer, we’ll miss our appointment,” he complained in Victor’s general direction, but aloud and almost to himself.  He was nervously checking and rechecking the baggage claim monitors, wondering what was taking so long, and wondering for how long it was expected for him to wear the lei that had been put around his neck as soon as he stepped off of the plane before it would be seen as impolite to take it off.

 

“Maybe we should just talk to the airline and have them send the luggage to the hotel,”  Victor offered; of course his Lover also had his lei on too, and he thought it was amazing and he had already made the naughty suggestion that maybe he might try walking around their suite in only the lei for a while, and what would Yuu~~ri do about it if that were to happen?

 

A mock-sternly voiced  _ “Victor!” _ and a cheeky: “Later, Vitya. Later,”  stopped that thought line well enough because Yuuri was on a time crunch, and he was wondering why Victor was being so blasé.

 

But Yuuri couldn’t think about that; it was bad enough that he always ended up exhausted and disoriented for a while after a long flight, but now they were really late, and it looked as though there was some kind of issue with the baggage carousel.  He didn’t need Victor to be distracting him by putting those thoughts into his head; their Wedding Night in Hasetsu bled well into the morning of their flight and neither of them bothered to sleep until they had boarded.

 

“Vitya, please.”

 

Victor was sipping from his Starbucks coffee cup and scrolling through his missed calls and alerts, looking as though he hadn’t a care in the world, at least after he got a colorfully worded message from Yurio that The Massive Drooling Furball had arrived safely home to Russia with the rest of their rinkmates, and “You’re Fucking Welcome, you Gross Assholes.”  Victor laughed and send a ridiculous reply full of kissy faces, and a selfie of him puckering up to text Yurio a kiss for Makkachin. 

 

That’s great, Victor, really great.  Of course, Yuuri was relieved beyond measure that Makkachin was safe and back at home, and of course there was a tiny bit of sadistic amused that Yurio had been tasked by Yakov to look after their dog, but there was something even more pressing than that in this particular moment, and Victor was entirely too nonchalant for his tastes.  What the hell was going on here? This whole thing about having an Official Wedding in the States was his idea, and they were dangerously close to missing office hours at the county clerk’s office, not to mention the Justice of the Peace’s office. “Let’s give it a few more minutes, malysh; it’s a hassle to have to wait at the hotel for luggage,” he said with a smile and another sip of coffee despite his obvious tiredness.  The flight had been delayed, and then diverted, and then delayed again, and neither one of them quite had their bearings, and now they were late and Yuuri thought Victor would be pulling his Unreasonable Celebrity Demand Card with the baggage representative by now for sure. So why wasn’t he? 

 

A few more minutes.  “Should we call?” Yuuri suggested,   “Maybe we can let them know we are running late, and maybe we can-”

 

“Yuuri, let’s skip it.”

 

_ What?! _

 

The noise of the baggage area faded into a tunnel of static to Yuuri’s ears as he studied Victor’s smiling face.  “W-what?” he finally managed to spit out between his now-ragged heartbeats. No, damn it,  _ no! _  It had to be Today!  Was Victor seriously abandoning the Plan now that they had flown across an ocean to Hawaii for  _ just this purpose?! _

 

Victor finished his coffee and tossed the cup into a nearby bin before standing in front of him.  “You have given me Everything, more than everything, Yuuri, and you’ve put up with all of my planning and I know it drove you crazy.”  

 

“But, Vitya-”

 

“I have a Family now,” he interrupted softly, “a new Name in Japan;  I have you. For what more could I ask of you? It’s Official enough,” he said fondly, daring to put a soft hand upon Yuuri’s cheek, still cool despite being wrapped around a warm cup of coffee not a minute before.  “Let’s just relax now. Oh, and I still want to rent jet-skis.”

 

Yuuri couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped.  But, no, he needed for this to happen Today, because it was important!  He had his own Plan! The little box in his carry-on luggage was screaming at him to stay the course and to get his Vitya’s mind off of fucking jet-skis for half a fucking second.  His brow must have subconsciously furrowed, because the next thing he heard was: “Ahhh~~ don’t look at me like that,” Victor whined quietly, “it’s our Honeymoon, malysh.”

 

Shit.  The Plan.   _ The Plan! _

 

“But, I-”

 

“I know you know what a Honeymoon is, Yuu~~ri…,”  he interrupted playfully, and Yuuri could feel the heat travel to his cheeks.  After all, how could he help it? Even exhausted and slightly rumpled from travel, Victor was so, so beautiful, and, of course Yuuri knew what a Honeymoon was, and of course he knew there was a Suite Room waiting for them, and of course he wanted to take that certified hottie to bed and maybe a bath or, to expedite, a shower together, and-

 

“Ooooh,”  Victor purred, leaning in to whisper into his ear, “I think you just thought of something that would excite me, yes?  Keep going…”

 

“Vitya…”

 

“I have Chris’s little bachelor party gifts in my carry-on,” he whispered, “we can Leave. Right.  Now.”

 

Oh God.

 

Oh-God-oh-God-Oh-God-Oh-God….

 

Wait.  What?! In his  _ carry-on?! _

 

Oh Dear God. 

 

This.  Man.

 

Yuuri took a cleansing breath, willing himself to stop thinking about those things Chris gave to them as their ‘Honeymoon Sendoff’, half of them Yuuri wasn’t even sure what they  _ were, _ exactly, or what in blazes they were supposed to be used  _ for _ , exactly, and,  _ no! _ , he needed to get his shit together and Be. Firm.

 

“ _ No _ , Vitya.”

 

Victor pulled back from his ear and had sort of a startled look in his eyes.  “You don’t want to spend the rest of the day in bed?” he asked quietly, a faint hint of disappointment intoned within his voice that Yuuri could detect, and, dear God, of course he wanted to spend the rest of the day in bed with Victor, but it had to be Today, or the contents of the small box within his own carry-on bag would lose some of their meaning.

 

And, oh no, Victor suddenly looked tired, and, oh  _ God no! _ , did his eyes look like they were starting to mist over?!  Shit. Shit! Think fast, Yuuri, or else what should be one of the happiest days of Victor’s life would be ruined.  

 

And then, an Idea.

 

Maybe it was exhaustion from the flight, nerves about getting to the clerk’s office, surprise that Victor was willing to abandon it anyway; maybe it was all of those things churning away inside of his brain and edging closer to panic in the baggage claim, and maybe he was sort of low-key curious about the gifts Chris had given them, and even a bit higher-key curious to know if Victor knew what to do with them.  When Chris and his partner had given him the bag at the bachelor party and told them to open it once all the children had gone to bed, Yuuri had been somewhat emboldened by drink and by Victor’s arms wrapped around him possessively from behind. He held him with his chin resting upon Yuuri’s shoulder as he tried to peer inside the gift bag his lover held. Yuuri had ventured to ask their Swiss friend: “Is this for Victor, or is it for  _ me _ ?”  

 

“Tell us after you try them out,” Chris had replied with a wink and a fresh glass of Champagne to fill his unoccupied hand. 

 

Hmm.  

 

Yuuri was definitely looking forward to that, and maybe he could mention something like that to stop the train wreck he was starting to see forming in front of him as they waited for their luggage.

 

“Vitya, of course I want to spend the day in bed with  _ you _ ,” he cajoled in the most flirty voice he could muster while sober.  And in public. But they were in the States, and nobody seemed to even give them a second look here so far.  He saw Victor’s expression lift a little and Yuuri, perhaps as a result of his approaching disorientation from the flight, or perhaps as a result of the urgency to get to the County Clerk’s office, he decided to throw caution to the wind and he reached for the lei around Victor’s neck and yanked on it to bring him close to his face.  The action wasn’t as gratifying as it was with one of Victor’s designer ties, but he would take what he could get. He had his Lover’s complete and surprised attention now, those icy eyes no longer threatening to spill, but suddenly awake and alive with curiosity and interest. Good. He had him just where he wanted him. “I want to spend  _ several _ days in bed with you,” he affirmed softly.   “The fact that you are all over this jet-ski thing is mildly pissing me off because, with All of the  _ Things _ I have planned, you should be thinking about  _ that _ and not about goofing off on a water motorcycle.  Ne?” 

 

Victor’s eyes widened and began to sparkle.  “Tell me more, malysh,” he said, the seriousness in his voice had that undertone of want which was exactly for what Yuuri was aiming.  

 

“Oh, there are Things,”  Yuuri continued, and, maybe there really weren’t; he hadn’t really thought about This Topic of Discussion as a plan for any specific night, hadn’t exactly planned all of the Things, but, there were Ideas in his brain: he was a man after all.  A man who had one of the sexiest men on Earth as a lover in his bed, so, of course, there were always Things Yuuri wanted to do, even if they remained in his thoughts. Perhaps he might have to use some of those naughty, sort of embarrassing ideas after all to make sure he got what he wanted.   

 

“What sort of ‘things’, Yuu~~ri?”  Victor breathed, flirting right back.  God. Sometimes Victor’s ability to forget everything else and focus on the moment really did come in handy.

 

“You need to marry me  _ Today _ to find out.”

 

“Yuuri…,”  Victor breathed, his eyes widening and his mouth opening a little, the reflexive hand going up to cover it, and his gold ring catching the Hawaiian sun as it streamed through the windows of the baggage area.

 

Yuuri leaned in to Victor’s ear and he could see and hear the hitched breath as he dared to brush his lips upon the shell of it as he whispered:  “How can I take my Bride to the Honeymoon Suite and carry you over the threshold unless we have an actual Wedding, hmm?”

 

That did it.  In one motion Victor grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back.  “We’ll have the luggage delivered,” he declared with that same serious tone where he didn’t bother to hide the desire behind it.  “We’ll pick up the rental car later. Now, we go.”

 

“Let’s get a taxi.  You may have planned our Hasetsu Wedding, but Today, I’m in  _ charge _ .”

 

“Oh~~?”  Victor returned with another flirty smile and a wink to match, “Then if you want all of those ‘Things’ to happen, I guess you had better hurry up and put a ring on it,” he added playfully, brushing his lips to his own ring and then taking Yuuri’s hand and repeating the gesture.

 

Success.  

 

That was exactly what Yuuri intended to do with the little box in his carry-on which held a second set of Rings, in Platinum to go along with the gold bands they already wore.  It would be a final Wedding Surprise for his Vitya that he wanted to give to him, another symbol of their Lives and Loves, their own Family of Two, solidified by the shared Family Name to which Yuuri was about to commit, just as Victor had done in that plain office building in Japan when he became a Katsuki forever.

 

However much of Forever God planned for him to live, Yuuri only wanted to live it with his Beautiful Vitya by his side.

 

The cab ride was a blur of tropical palm trees and high-rise buildings and traffic, nature clashing with civilization, wind through the open window of the cab shifting the humid air and then making Victor’s silver hair take off in the flyaways he hated as it caught the breeze when they stepped out of the cab.   Somehow, Victor didn’t seem to care about it for once, and, somehow, they had made their appointment with barely a minute to spare to obtain their marriage license, and, somehow, they had made the appointment with the Justice of the Peace in similar almost-late fashion. 

 

When the officiant declared that that they could sign the Official Document, Yuuri did not hesitate to claim his new Name:  “Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov”, and Victor was trembling as he signed his. 

 

A Family of Two had been created, and the Wedding in Hawaii in a tiny Judge’s Chamber, with no frills or fuss, or people, or photographers, or Thing Cakes, or Plus Ones, and with a clerk as the only witness: it was just for the Two of them, now One.

 

Officially.

 

And as Yuuri opened the small box which held the second set of Rings, Victor finally came undone when he looked upon the engraving, complete with This Day’s date,  before Yuuri slid his finger through.

 

                                                                                   V&Y K-N:  Our Forever Begins Today

  
  
  


~fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for the comments kudos and bookmarks! I hope everyone enjoyed this silly little fluff-fest. It was fun to write for Yuuri this time, and I appreciate everyone who stopped by this story and gave it a chance. 
> 
> Thank you!!
> 
> ~Ceile


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